


The Past That Suits You Best

by orphan_account



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Developing Relationship, Eventual Romance, F/F, Family Drama, Friends to Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-10
Updated: 2011-05-10
Packaged: 2019-04-20 17:24:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 59,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14265990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: AU. Shelby kidnapped Rachel when Rachel was four and left Lima. But then Shelby dies (character death, in this one, obviously), the truth is discovered and Rachel is brought back to Lima. Title takes its name from a song by the Delgados.





	1. Chapter 1

**Title:**  The Past that Suits You Best  
**Author:**  Sulkygeek   
**Rating:**  R  
**Length:**  53700  
**Spoilers:**  Spoilers for most of Season2, but NOT ‘Born This Way’ or anything after that because I started this story before that aired  
**Summary:**  Shelby kidnapped Rachel as a young child, but dies. Rachel is brought back to Lima. Angst Meter: Low-Medium  
  
\--

* * *

  
  
Even with all the evidence right in front of her, Rachel still found it difficult to believe, because the truth was just that unbelievable. This sort of thing did not happen in real life. This sort of thing was relegated to the realm of feel-good news stories and teenage fiction. This was some  _The Face on the Milk Carton_  sort of shit. This was fodder for teledramas. This could not be her life.  
  
And yet, here she was.  
  
“It’ll be okay,” Rob whispered to her. He squeezed her hand. “Don’t be scared, little one. I won’t let anything worse happen to you. I promise.”  
  
She looked at him skeptically. “You can’t promise that.”  
  
Her beloved stepfather flinched and looked away. “I know. I’m sorry.”  
  
That was another thing. After twelve years of one shitty boyfriend after another, her mother finally sorted her shit out and met a nice guy. And instead of fleeing from the nice guy like her mother  _always_  did, when she actually managed to meet a nice guy, her mother finally did the right thing and held onto the nice guy and married him. The past three years were the happiest Rachel could remember and now it was all over.  
  
She wanted to hate her mother, but her mother was sort of a stickler for the ‘honor thy mother’ part that every religion seemed to emphasize, even if Rachel had been raised with no particular religious affiliation. Rachel still just respected her mother too much to hate her. And anyway, despite her mother’s propensity to pick shitty boyfriends before she married Rob and her tendency be a little overprotective and overinvolved in her daughter’s life, Rachel knew her mother was a  _good_  mom.   
  
So it made this whole thing that much more unbelievable.  
  
Rob swore he’d let nothing worse happen to her, but he just dropped her off in a hellhole town and walked away from her. She knew he didn’t have a choice-- there was a cop standing by making sure he did exactly that. But that didn’t help her feel any better seeing his back to her, walking away from her.   
  
It was just too unbelievable.   
  
She wanted to scream, “Dad, please don’t leave me here,” and run after him, but she couldn’t do that because she already had two fathers standing to her left, ready to take her to a place she was supposed to learn to call home.   
  
\--  
  
‘My mother stole me,’ Rachel thought to herself, because she knew it was true. But it seemed so damned unbelievable, she had to  _think_  it, though she did not believe she could ever speak it. ‘My mother stole me,’ she repeated to herself.  
  
The police report was right there in black-and-white, dated January 10, 1999 which meant she’d turned four the month before.   
  
Rachel took a deep breath and read it again.  
  
‘On January 10, 1999, I, officer Zaralta, serial number 456321 with my partner, Reed, serial number 567892, responded to Faurot Park in response to a report of a missing child. When we responded to the scene, minor’s parents, Ronald Berry and Michael Kirkpatrick were interviewed. Child has no legal mother. Berry and Kirkpatrick identified the minor as Rachel Grace Berry (DOB 12/18/1994), age four years, 3 weeks. She is approximately 33 inches in height and 30 pounds (as listed in minor’s last well child exam on January 3, 1999). Child Berry is considered small for her age, but otherwise has no medical conditions. Child’s development is considered to be within normal limits. When last seen, child was wearing blue denim jeans, a long-sleeve white shirt, decorated with pumpkins and gold stars, a purple scarf and a black jacket. Minor has identifying characteristics of a freckle on her left cheek and a scar located on her upper forehead, near the hair line [see attached picture]. Officer Reed and I searched the park grounds with the parents and several other unrelated bystanders. When the minor was not found within ten minutes, I summoned additional officers. Officers Fitzgerald, serial number 345876 and Micheals, serial number 345321 responded and the area was again searched to no avail. A larger-scale search was launched in the areas surrounding the park, but the child was not discovered.   
  
Upon speaking to the parents, it appeared the child was left unattended for approximately one hour. Berry brought the child to the park and met with Kirkpatrick. They each left the park believing the other parent had the child in his custody. Berry and Kirkpatrick explained that Berry did errands while Kirkpatrick returned to the family home. When Berry arrived at the home without the child, Berry and Kirkpatrick discovered the miscommunication and returned to the park but did not find the child. They called for police assistance at that time. Berry and Kirkpatrick were distraught and displayed affect congruent with the circumstances. Berry and Fitzpatrick admitted they had an argument prior to separating at the park and this likely contributed to the miscommunication.  
  
Berry and Kirkpatrick indicated that as a gay couple, they’d received numerous threats from both Berry and Kirkpatrick’s parents (child’s grandparents) to remove the child, ‘one way or the other.’ Kirkpatrick’s parents attempted to file for guardianship of the child without Berry and Kirkpatrick knowing (Case number: LF 234283) which was dismissed. Kirkpatrick’s parents were informed they were not to attempt to remove custody in Family Law Court, but the option of filing for custody in Probate court was still presented to them. Berry’s parents attempted to file for custody of the child in Probate Court (Case number: LQ 223144) but were denied.  
  
Berry’s parents reside in Lima while Kirkpatrick’s parents have relocated to Mansfield. Officers Tilden, serial number 234325 and Thomas, serial number 654345 conducted a thorough search of the Berry grandparents’ home. Child was not discovered. Officers requested a courtesy check from the Mansfield Police Department to search the home of the Kirkpatrick grandparents, but child was not discovered. Berry and Kirkpatrick’s respective parents indicated they were no longer interested in custody of the child and denied involvement with child’s disappearance.   
  
Berry and Kirkpatrick indicated they’d seen the child’s biological mother, Shelby Corcoran, who typically resides in New York City, NY, at a local grocery store approximately ten days prior. I located Corcoran who was still in Lima. I interviewed Corcoran who indicated she’d returned to Lima to attend funerals for her parents who were both recently killed in a traffic accident (see DR report 10-63430922). She expressed concern for the circumstances but indicated she was merely a surrogate for Berry and Kirkpatrick and she’d had no contact with the child since the child’s birth. Corcoran granted consent to search the premises and there was no discovery of the child. Corcoran indicated she would stay in Lima for several days, but she planned to return to New York City once she settled her parents’ estates.  
  
Berry and Kirkpatrick indicated they’d also experienced problems with neighbors vandalizing their home (see DR reports 10-12310843, 10-23452945, 10-23428236, 10-3242342, 10-3436633, 10-4534536, et al). Berry and Kirkpatrick indicated neighbors have also made comments that the child would be ‘better off’ not in their care.   
  
By January 17, 1999, there was no discovery of the child. Initial suspects Berry and Kirkpatrick grandparents in addition to Corcoran and other neighbors have been cooperative and there is no evidence of the child. Berry and Kirkpatrick each denied harming the child and submitted to polygraphs which they each passed.   
  
As of the writing of this report, the child has not been found. This investigation is being transferred to the juvenile detectives as an active case.’  
  
That ended that particular police report. There were other ones, but that was the one she came back to over and over again because it was the only one that mentioned her mother.   
  
At first, she tried to tell herself it wasn’t her mother. After all, her mother’s last name wasn’t Corcoran-- it was Davies. Her mother was Shelby Davies. She was Rachel Davies. But then Davies turned out to be a fake surname, and really she’d only been groping for frail hope.   
  
What she didn’t know is how her mother managed to conceal her back then with the police looking for her. She was desperate for answers, but now she knew she’d never get any.   
  
She really couldn’t remember that day, no matter how much people asked. When she was younger, she had foggy memories of loving, but slightly spacey fathers and other kids she used to play with but didn’t see anymore. But when she brought it up to her mother, her mother always told her it was just a dream.   
  
“You’ve always been mine,” her mother used to tell her. “It’ll always be you and me, baby. What would you want with someone else when you have me?”  
  
In retrospect, it was a little screwed up. Rachel could recognize her mother seemed intent on making her completely dependent on her. Sometimes, her mother even seemed jealous of the friendships she had with other kids, and her mother was  _definitely_  jealous if she got close to a parent of one of her friends, even if she’d never said so. She had her best friend, Claire, who her mother adored, but other than that, her mother didn’t encourage her to have a lot of friends. It was like her mother was jealous of the time she spent away from her.   
  
She’d always thought it was weird how she’d had distinct memories of calling two men ‘daddy,’ but her mother strenuously told her that her father just wasn’t involved any time Rachel brought it up. She’d always believed her mother. And well, considering her mother’s track record when it came to men, it didn’t seem so unusual to Rachel that she would have called multiple men ‘Daddy’ when she was growing up. After a while, the memories of these men started to fade and she never even thought about them again-- she just assumed they were two separate men her mother dated when she was younger and she’d just called both of them Daddy and somehow managed to associate the two of them together. And anyway, after the age of six, she stopped asking about her father. She was curious, of course, because who wouldn’t be? But she didn’t want to hurt her mother’s feelings, so she just never brought it up again.  
  
The last time she ever brought up the idea of having a father, she’d been six years old and had no one to make a Father’s Day card for.   
  
“You don’t need a dad, you have me,” her mother told her. “You can make one for me, baby. It’s always just been me and you against everyone. We don’t need anyone else.”  
  
After that day, she’d always just made her mother a card on Father’s Day until she was twelve when her mother married Rob.  
  
But now Rachel knew the truth. She was  _always_  supposed to have two fathers. It was her mother she wasn’t supposed to have.   
  
\--  
  
Rachel was furious, but she couldn’t even be  _that_  furious with her mother because her mother had to go and  _die_  on her and it was a futile and terrible thing to be angry with the dead. And the truth was, as furious as she was with her mother, she would have given up anything to have her back.   
  
She’d been driving with her mother, arguing about something inconsequential, when her mother let out a little moan. Rachel really hadn’t been that upset, they were always arguing with one another, to the point that one of her mother’s coworkers scolded her for treating Rachel more as a spouse than a child. Her mother was pestering her about staying up too late texting with Claire and Ray, so Rachel had been utterly exasperated with her mother. She had a really snippy rejoinder prepared when her mother let out that little moan, but it died in her throat. She knew instantly that she had something to be worried about.   
  
“Mom? Momma?”  
  
“I don’t feel well.”  
  
Then her mother slumped over the steering wheel. Rachel grabbed the wheel, pulled the car over and pulled up the emergency brake.   
  
“Momma?”  
  
Her mother didn’t respond.   
  
She called 911 immediately and tried to resuscitate her mother, but by the time the ambulance came, Rachel was already pretty certain her mother was gone. She was right. Her mother was dead on arrival at the hospital.   
  
For the next month, she tried to make her life return to normal. She lived with her stepfather and they tried to carry on without her mother, as difficult as that was. Her mother had clearly been dead-set on being the centre of Rachel’s world, because once she was gone, Rachel was uncertain about her ability to carry on without her mother. She fantasized about what it would have been like if she hadn’t grabbed the wheel and just let the car take her to a fiery death.  
  
Somehow she managed, although just barely. It took a month for her to even begin to accept that her mother was gone. She spent an entire month stealing from her mother’s wardrobe, expecting to get caught, but she never did. After the first month, she started to finally believe her mother was never coming back and that somehow the world carried on without her.   
  
Then the police came knocking on their door.  
  
\--  
  
Rachel still wasn’t entirely sure how the discovery was made. Children’s Services left her in the care of her stepfather since her mother and Rob were legally married, even if he hadn’t formally adopted her. They deemed Rob was a suitable guardian and Rachel really thought the whole thing was over. As far as Rachel knew up until then, there was no biological father who cared about her, so there was no one to call to announce ‘take custody of your kid!’ No father other than Rob had ever been involved in her life, not as far as she could really remember.   
  
She never even stopped to consider she had a father who might care about her, let alone two fathers. She’d used to ask her mother ‘did my father leave because of me?’ and her mother used to assure her with ‘your father left me and never even knew about you, but there was no way I could find him. He  _really_  wanted to leave me.’ And even though a part of her wondered if maybe this father would want a relationship with her even if he didn’t want one with her mother, Rachel didn’t  _want_  a relationship with anyone who didn’t want one with her mother. So she just never wanted her dad,  
  
And then it turned out that not only did she have one father who desperately wanted involvement in her life, she actually had  _two_  of them.   
  
Someone must have looked her up at the National Center for Missing and Exploited Children website or  _something_ , because there she was on their website, her four year old self smiling back at her. And she wasn’t Rachel Davies like she thought she was. She was Rachel Berry, and though she wanted to believe it was all a mistake, after all, the names didn’t fit, the photograph on the website was unmistakably her.   
  
Her presence on that website was enough to bring the police to her doorstep again.   
  
Within 72 hours after the discovery was made, her life completely changed  _again_ . It wasn’t enough that her mother was  _dead_  and she was still reeling from  _that_ . No. Her mother wasn’t her mother anymore-- she was a kidnapper.   
  
Rachel was dragged to the police station where she had to await the arrival of two men she didn’t recognize, but who grabbed her into ferocious hugs and wouldn’t let her go. And she had to hear her mother’s name disparaged and dragged through the mud. Her mother was a  _kidnapper_  and her poor stepfather was arrested and interrogated as an accomplice, even though he hadn’t even known them back then.   
  
By the end of it, she was dragged away from the only hometown she’d ever known in San Diego to some hillbilly town in _Ohio_ .  
  
She couldn’t believe this was her life.  
  
\--  
  
She got dragged to Ohio in the middle of summer and spent the rest of the summer before her junior year holed up in her bedroom.   
  
When she first walked into it after her fathers brought her home, she was appalled they expected her to live in this room. It was clearly meant for a toddler. But then she realized that the last time she’d slept in that room, she actually had been a toddler. Nothing had been changed in it-- there were even still toddler clothes in the drawers and closets and the yellow walls were decorated with alphabet letters and numbers in addition to posters from Broadway musicals. Clearly, it’d been a shrine for the past eleven years and she felt a little bit of pity for those poor men who looked at her with over-earnest eyes. There was a picture of the three of them--- she was maybe two or three in the photograph, set on the desk in her room and they just looked so happy in the picture.   
  
She realized that was the girl they must have been holding onto all these years. But she wasn’t that girl. She wished she could be different to make them happy, but she just wasn’t that little girl in the photograph.   
  
They were so earnest.   
  
“You can decorate it however you want!”  
  
“We’ll go shopping for clothes!”  
  
She just plastered a smile to her face because she didn’t want to hurt their feelings, but it weirded her out how they couldn’t keep their hands off her. They kept touching her face, stroking her hair and pulling her into hugs. She knew it was just normal parental affection, but she didn’t know them. It was  _creepy_ .   
  
And she knew they weren’t creeps-- San Diego CPS asked Allen County CPS to do a courtesy visit to assess the home and run criminal background checks on her fathers before officially releasing her into their custody, even if they were her parents. They were  _clean_ , not even so much as a parking ticket between them in the intervening eleven years she’d been gone.   
  
Before she actually met them, she’d really thought they had to be creeps if her mother took her from them. She thought her mother  _must_  have had her reasons. But then she met them and she just didn’t get a feeling like that from them. They seemed really nice and they looked like a happy little family in those old photographs. It completely messed with her head because she had no idea what her mother had been thinking eleven years ago. It was just so obvious now that her mother had taken her from her fathers for selfish reasons, but well-intentioned ones.   
  
Her dads weren’t creeps, but she still didn’t want to be in  _Lima_ .   
  
A few days later when she dutifully followed them around a shopping mall, it was clear they still thought of her as a little girl. The stuff they wanted her to try on-- animal sweaters, argyle sweaters and plaid skirts were the sort of things a little girl would wear. The more suspicious part of her mind whispered nagging doubts about child molesters and pedophiles-- what sort of men liked teenaged girls dressed up as little kids? But the more animated they got, the more she realized they just wanted their little girl back-- they clearly had no idea how to deal with a teenager. They were trying to dress her the way they used to when they were still picking out her clothes and once Rachel figured it out, it was kind of sweet.   
  
Rachel had to admit she used to have an inexplicable affinity for animal sweaters until relatively recently herself, but her mother used to gently mock her for it, and so animal sweaters just weren’t her thing anymore. Rachel wondered if maybe her fathers had instilled a love of animal sweaters in her or something and that’s why she liked them until relatively recently. She really didn’t want to wear them anymore, but she found herself agreeing to an owl sweater just to appease her fathers. She loved the skirts though, even if her fathers clucked their tongues about the length. She knew her legs were one of her best traits, and she felt no shame in flaunting them. She actually had plenty of skirts in her wardrobe already, which her mother  _hated_  because she thought it was too ‘slutty school uniform.’   
  
She knew her fathers were just trying to make her happy, but really, she just wanted to be left alone. She wanted desperately to connect with them, but all she could think about was how much she wished they’d just left her with her stepfather. She wanted to just love them and feel an instant connection with them, but it just wasn’t happening. She wanted to hate her mother for it-- how could her mother  _do_  this to them? To her? But she just missed her mother too much to resent her. Even though she knew most of her life thus far had been a lie, it didn’t  _feel_  like one. All that love her mother gave her didn’t feel like a lie.   
  
When she’d unpacked her clothes and mementos from her former life, all she could think was ‘I want to go home.’  
  
That first night in her fathers’ house, she pulled out the picture of her and her mother, taken only recently on her mother’s last birthday. She and her mother looked so much alike, there was no way her mother could have ever denied the relationship. Rachel wondered if that was how her mother was able to fly under the radar so easily-- there was no way anyone would doubt her mother when she claimed her as her daughter.   
  
In that picture, she could only see the mother that she adored-- not some kidnapper the way everyone claimed she was. Her mother was imperfect and frequently annoying, but Rachel adored her and in this photograph, her mother was positioned behind her, arms wrapped around her waist. The support Rachel always had, even when she didn’t want it. She’d always felt safe with her mother. Even when bad things happened to them, and they’d had a  _lot_ of bad luck over the years, she always felt like her mother would protect her. Now she didn’t know what to think.   
  
She’d been a Mama’s girl, through-and-through. She was never ashamed about how close she was to her mother or how important their relationship was to her.   
  
Looking back on it, maybe there was a certain amount of pathology in her mother, even without the whole federal offence/kidnapping thing. Her mother practically  _forced_  them to be close.   
  
Her mother was a career waitress who tended to get paid under the table. It never made sense to her why her talented mother who was clearly intelligent never strove for anything better, but it all clicked into place now. Of  _course_  her mother couldn’t use that college degree that was earned under a different name. Her mother was even using a fake social security number. Her mother made some extra cash by giving piano and voice lessons and Rachel always supplemented the family income by doing some odd jobs like babysitting and dogwalking.   
  
It was always just the two of them against the world until her mother met Rob and before her mother agreed to marry him, she’d made it very clear that “my kid will always be more important than you. If you can’t handle it, you can leave now. We don’t  _need_  you. We’d just like you to be in our lives.” That was the way her mother often spoke-- we this and we that. Rachel had to admit she’d kind of adopted that, too.   
  
But now when Rachel thought about  _all_  the planning that her mother must have done to make all of this happen, she just couldn’t reconcile this criminal mastermind who used fake social security numbers and doctored up a fake birth certificate with the mother who used to take her shopping and accompany her to concerts. She just  _couldn’t_  make that connection.   
  
Some of her friends back home used to make fun of her that she genuinely liked spending time with her mother. But she really did. Sundays were always mother-daughter time and it was always the highlight of Rachel’s week.   
  
People were calling her mother a kidnapper and making horrible comments about how her mother fully deserved that heart attack at the age of thirty seven, but what people didn’t know was that her mother was a  _great_  mom. Like, Rachel knew the mothers of some of her friends were the type to choose their boyfriends over their kids, but her mother wasn’t like that.  
  
Sure, her mother had horrible taste in men. But when her mother came home from a double shift at the restaurant when Rachel was seven and found a large, fist-sized bruise on Rachel’s stomach and one under her eye from Shelby’s boyfriend-at-the-time, Steve, Steve got a rude awakening in the form of a flashlight crashing down on his balls.   
  
Time and time again, Shelby always chose Rachel over everyone and anyone else and Rachel just wanted to hold onto a  _good_  scrap of her mother’s memory.  
  
Rachel wanted to put up that picture on her nightstand, next to her bed. But she was afraid of offending her fathers. They were tight-lipped about her mother, but she could tell they hated her.   
  
She didn’t know how she was going to survive this.   
  
She knew her fathers were in the right and what her mother did was totally indefensible. But she just wished she could have her mother back and her fathers would go away. She felt like such a horrible person because what decent person would choose a lying kidnapper over sweet, affectionate fathers who clearly loved her? She was clearly a horrible person and she was dreading the day her fathers figured out that they never should have bothered praying for her return because she wasn’t anything they should want. But at the same time, she was hoping they’d realize she wasn’t anything they wanted and just let her go back to her old life.   
  
\--  
  
The hours of each day seemed to pass so slowly, but the summer itself passed way too quickly.   
  
\--  
  
She walked into the halls of McKinley and wished she could be  _anywhere_  else.   
  
As she walked in, she got a text message from her best friend, Claire, still back home.   
She hadn’t talked to anyone from back home other than Rob since she got to Lima. She just didn’t want to deal with anyone, and predictably enough, nearly everyone gave up trying to contact her after she ignored them long enough. But Claire was her best friend, and therefore, persistent. Rachel felt bad about it, but she just couldn’t talk to Claire. She just couldn’t have reminders of her old life. It would make this unbelievable thing way too real. As it was, she was still half-convinced it was all a dream.   
  
She had two cell phones now-- she had one from back home for which her stepfather was footing the bill and her fathers didn’t know about and the cell phone her fathers bought for her with a Lima number.   
  
Even though she didn’t respond to any of the text messages or phone calls still coming into her old phone, she kept it on anyway.   
  
She read Claire’s text.   
  
‘ _Friend! Happy first day of school. You’re going to rock it. P.S. It still hurts my feelings you aren’t talking to me, but I’m here when you’re ready. Love you._  
  
Rachel bit her lower lip. She and Claire were so close, they were practically sisters although not everything they did together was particularly sororal. She really hoped Claire would forgive her one day. But then she wondered how Claire knew today was McKinley’s first day of school-- her old school started last week.  
  
She and Claire always had a scarily psychic connection, because the moment she had that thought, her phone buzzed again in her hand and there was another text message waiting for her. Again, from Claire.   
  
_I checked the Allen County School District website to find out when your school started. You better appreciate how early I got up just to wish you good luck, bitch. Love you. Miss you. Talk to me._  
  
Rachel couldn’t help grin. Of all the ways to start her day, this was the least sucky way to start.  
  
\--  
  
The entire school, from students, teachers, administrators, cafeteria ladies, security and the janitor knew her story. At least, the news headlines stuff. Most people gave her a wide berth, which is exactly what she wanted. She didn’t want to talk. She didn’t want to socialize. She just wanted to put her brave face on and get through all this. She was fifteen, but a junior and if she played her cards right, she could get out of this town for college before she turned eighteen.   
  
She’d always been set on UCLA because it was far enough that she’d have to move into a dorm, but still close enough to her mother. She was still sort of set on UCLA because she wanted to be close to her stepfather, but without her mother, she didn’t think he’d be that interested in her. She knew he loved her, but love tended to dissipate and he probably wanted to move on with his life. How could he move on with his dead wife’s stolen daughter getting in his way? Rachel was certain that given enough time, he’d lose interest in her and he’d shut off her phone with her San Diego number. When that happened, she’d get the message. She wouldn’t try to fight, wouldn’t try to hold onto someone who didn’t want her.   
  
Now that her mother was dead, she had no particular attachment to UCLA and was thinking about NYU or Julliard. Anything to make her stardom dreams come true. It was all she had now. Her story got a little bit of media attention, but between her fathers and her stepfather, they managed to squash most of the media attention, which was a relief because she wanted to be famous for the right reasons. There was a huge difference between desired and undesired attention, and in her mind, there really was such a thing as bad publicity.   
  
It was, however, a big news story both in her town in San Diego and in her new town of Lima.   
  
People stared at her and whispered as she walked through the hallway, but she kept her face as neutral as possible. Her mother always taught her to smile even when she didn’t feel like it, but she just couldn’t muster enough energy to actually smile. She could not put on her show face, despite all the years of her mother drilling that into her. The most she could muster was her brave face which was just blank and devoid of emotion. But that seemed to be the better option because her brave face was the thing keeping people away. She was pretty sure if she was smiling with her show face, people would try to talk to her and she just wanted to be left alone.   
  
She didn’t have much of an appetite, so she skipped lunch. She thought about hiding out in a stall in the bathroom, but that seemed too pathetic, though she could admit to herself she’d likely have to resort to it eventually. She thought about being slightly less pathetic and just walking around the school, but she just wanted to stay out of sight. In the one stroke of good luck all day, she found the choir room and sat at the piano.   
  
She was just mindlessly playing some chords, arpeggios and scales-- simple sort of warm-up stuff her mother used to do with kids before starting a lesson.   
  
She didn’t even hear the door to the choir room open.  
  
“Hi.”  
  
Rachel jumped and she turned around to stare at a blonde she’d seen in her pre-lunch classes.   
  
“Hi.” Rachel frowned. The other girl was familiar to her, and not just because Rachel had seen her around in her classes. In fact, in her classes, she’d studiously kept her gaze on her desk. No, up close, this girl, was definitely familiar. “Quinn?” she blurted. It just came out before she could stop herself.   
  
The blonde smiled. “Do you remember me?”  
  
Rachel paused. She didn’t actually. And she couldn’t recall ever hearing the name associated with the blonde. But the blonde was so familiar and her mind was tickled by memories she couldn’t quite reach.  
  
“I…no,” Rachel admitted. She wanted to give a rambling explanation-- she was prone to that sort of thing. But she managed to stop herself.   
  
The blonde looked disappointed, but she moved to sit down next to Rachel on the piano bench. Rachel scooted over to make space.  
  
“We played together the day you disappeared,” Quinn told her. “On the swings. But then my mom and I left. We used to go to the same pre-school, too.”  
  
Rachel raised an eyebrow and she continued to play scales. She couldn’t look at the blonde. She couldn’t remember the last time she made eye contact with anyone. She was just trying to get through life.   
  
“It was so long ago, you still remember that?”  
  
“I’ve had to tell the police all about it a lot,” Quinn said wryly. “You still look the same, you know. You’re not even that much taller.”  
  
Rachel turned to look at the other girl in exasperation, but saw that Quinn was smiling. Rachel turned her attention back to the keys, staring down at her hands moving over the ivory. She’d played piano for as long as she could remember, and she really didn’t have to look down to play, but she couldn’t look at this other girl.   
  
“I don’t remember much,” Rachel softly confessed. “Every time I’d try to talk to my mom about stuff I’d remember…she’d tell me it was a dream. I don’t even know what’s real anymore.” It was the most she’d said to anyone about her mother since the truth was discovered and she didn’t know why she told this girl about it. But she did.   
  
“I’m sorry,” Quinn said sympathetically. She put her hand over Rachel’s left hand, stilling it. “Welcome back, Rachel,” she said softly. She gave Rachel’s hand a gentle squeeze, got up and left.  
  
Rachel was grateful Quinn said “welcome back” instead of “welcome home” like everyone else. Because this wasn’t home.   
  
\--  
  
The rest of her day was preoccupied by thoughts of Quinn. The blonde was familiar to her, and once Quinn said it, Rachel started to remember that day a little more clearly and she really did remember playing with Quinn on the swings. She remembered other things, too, but only vaguely and obliquely. But she wondered if maybe her mind was creating false memories. As hard as she tried she couldn’t remember how her mother got her to follow.   
  
She was walking down the hall after her last class when some chimpanzee in a letterman jacket threw a Slushie in her face. She was so shocked, she just froze for a moment. Stuff like this didn’t happen at her other school. She couldn’t believe the guy had the nerve to do it in front of a teacher. Her Spanish teacher, Mr. Schuester was standing  _right_  there-- the chimp in the letterman jacket had to have seen him. And even worse, that teacher didn’t even doing anything, Rachel locked eyes with him and expected him to step in and take disciplinary action. But he didn’t.  
  
Rachel clenched her jaw and then clenched her fists at her side. Her mother had always scrimped to make the ends meet. But her mother traded free piano lessons for some guy’s kid so that Rachel could get free krav maga lessons. Rachel was a pacifist, and she hated confrontation. Her mother discouraged her from confrontations, if feasible, but her mother also wanted her to be prepared for any contingency. And this? This was exactly the sort of situation her mother taught her not to let stand.  
  
The chimpanzee was walking away, laughing. He even tossed his cup on the floor. Somehow the fact that he  _littered_  made her even angrier. She and her mother were living green long before it became hip.  
  
“HEY!” she screamed.  
  
He turned to look at her and  _smirked_ . “What?” he asked belligerently. He grabbed his crotch. “Suck it, bitch,” he said with a laugh. He turned to walk away.  
  
She ran to catch up to him and tackled him to the ground. He landed on his knees and dropped to his beer gut, but she rolled him over. He was on his back as she beat her fists into him. One of his Neanderthal friends grabbed her around the waist, but she wriggled away and slammed her fists into his chest. He hunched over, wheezing. Another one of his Neanderthal friends tried to grab her but she grabbed his wrist the moment he grabbed her arm and wrenched it away. She twisted the guy’s arm behind his back and shoved him away. She turned her attention back to the chimpanzee, who was staggering to his feet, and kicked him in the groin.   
  
“What is the matter with you?! Who the hell are you? I don’t even know you!”  
  
“That’s Karofsky,” some bystander called out to her.   
  
Rachel clenched her jaw and crouched down next to him where he was curled fetal, bleeding, coughing and crying. “If you ever do that again, I’ll  _kill_ you!”  
  
She was tempted to kick him again, but her mother taught her not to kick a person when they were down.  
  
“That goes for all of you!” she shouted at the other bystanders, who’d laughed when that chimp threw that drink in her face. Now they were all just staring at her like  _she_  was the crazy preson. She glared at her Spanish teacher as she passed him. “No teacher at my other school would have just stood there! What internet-based teaching credential did you earn?!” she snapped at him. She wiped Slushie off her face and stomped toward the bathroom.   
  
She hated this stupid school. All she wanted was to be left alone. She was just minding her own business, trying to stay out of everyone’s way and even then, someone came after her. And she just stood up for herself, but somehow  _she_  was the one people looked at like she was crazy.   
  
\--  
  
She tried to fight back tears as she got a lecture from her fathers for the fight at school. Somehow it was perfectly okay for this Karofsky kid to throw a beverage in her face, but she couldn’t defend herself? Her mother would have rained down shit all over these people  
  
“Your mother was a kidnapper,” one of her fathers told her, when she told them so. He couldn’t conceal the venom in his voice and he didn’t apologize for speaking ill of her mother the way they usually did when they allowed their resentment of her mother to slip out.  
  
She couldn’t fight back tears after that. The honeymoon period with her fathers was clearly over and it was never that great to begin with.  
  
Her fathers looked so alarmed, like she was this sick  _thing_  they let into their home and once the adrenaline rushed out of her body, she really did start to feel guilty. She wasn’t someone who liked to resort to fisticuffs-- she’d always taken pride in her verbal ability. She really should have stood up to the guy without resorting to violence, but something in her just snapped.   
  
She knew her mother did a bad thing. Hell, before her mother died, Rachel had plenty of days when she hated her mother. Her mother had a tendency to make some pretty terrible decisions and she could be overbearing and stifling. But she was still her mother. Rachel just couldn’t think of her mother as “that woman” or “the kidnapper” or “Corcoran.”   
  
Not that long ago, she wanted all kinds of things-- an iPhone, sudden (but well-earned) fame, a career on Broadway, for Scott Sheridan to ask her out…and now all she wanted was to feel a little better. She wanted her life to have some sense of normalcy again. But that was the thing that seemed most out of reach.


	2. Chapter 2

To: goldstarracheldavies @ hotmail.com  
From: claireduffyisgreat@ gmail.com  
Subject: I’m still here  
  
Hey friend,  
  
Everyone here misses you. Glee isn’t the same without you and the dance team lost its first competition. I guess with no one being a drill sergeant about the extra practicing, we sort of sucked. At least now you can take some satisfaction that you were right, right?   
  
You know, it’s totally like you to do this to me. You always were such an ostrich. Your problems aren’t going to go away just because you pretend like they don’t exist. Rob talked to my mom and told her you’re having a hard time over there so I know you aren’t ignoring me just because you found some great life in  _Ohio_  of all places. And considering how irreplaceable I am, I know you haven’t found a new best friend yet. And if you did, you are a bitch.   
  
I didn’t write this to lecture you or anything. I just wanted to let you know that I miss my best friend and I’m still here if you need me. I think I know why you’re cutting out on all of us, but I think it’d help if you talk. You once talked my ear off for three hours about the prescience of RENT (I still don’t see it) and let’s not forget about the time you spent an entire day worrying that your life was going to turn out like  _Like Water for Chocolate_ . By the way, that book? I’m still, like, what the fuck about it. Although I know you love it because you’re a DRAMA QUEEN. Anyway. I know you’re really good at talking and when you finally decide to remember you have a best friend you can go to, I’ll be here.   
  
Keep your head up.   
  
\--Claire.  
  
P.S. Remember when we bought those ‘best friend’ necklaces together in fifth grade? We were such dorks. But you’re still my be fri, friend. And I’ll always be your st ends.  
  
Love you, girl.   
  
-C.  
  
Rachel swallowed hard after she read the email. She’d only spent one week at McKinley and she already hated it. Claire still texted her nearly every other day and Rachel had to admit, it made her days brighter. Reading Claire’s email on a Sunday night before she had to start her second week at McKinley, gave Rachel a little more strength. She still couldn’t bring herself to reply, but she read it four times before she closed it.   
  
The social hierarchy was way more defined at McKinley than in any other school she’d ever been at-- and in a really bad way. The teachers all seemed part of the problem rather than trying to achieve a solution. Mr. Ryerson, some creepy middle-aged guy who asked her if her fathers needed ‘a third’ slipped her some medical-grade marijuana and told her there was plenty more where that came from if she needed it. He was her history teacher. He was blatantly creepy, but at least his creepiness was overt. A lot of the other teachers were creepy in ways that were much more undercover and Rachel found that to be much more threatening. Other teachers either seemed way too obsessed with being liked by the students or seemed  _afraid_  of the students. Some appeared to be a combination of both, like they’d never really left high school themselves. Other teachers seemed like they were asleep. And there was one teacher, Ms. Sylvester, who just seemed  _insane_ .  
  
Still, of all the teachers in the school, Rachel liked Ms. Sylvester the most. Sure, she shoved students out of her way, demeaned them and was clearly insane. But Ms. Sylvester generally left her alone after the first day when Sylvester made the PE class run suicides the whole period and Rachel barely broke a sweat. Rachel was used to that sort of thing-- physical fitness had always been a priority in her life and she and her mother used to run five miles together every morning before she went to school and her mother went to work. She didn’t complain about running the suicides, and she barely broke a sweat, and so Ms. Sylvester seemed…well, not respectful, exactly, because it was clear Ms. Sylvester wouldn’t respect anyone. But she seemed indifferent and since Ms Sylvester seemed to unleash vitriol over everyone, even the pets on her Cheerios team, Rachel was thrilled Ms. Sylvester generally ignored her.   
  
And anyway Ms. Sylvester called her ‘Davies’ which Rachel still considered her real surname, not  _Berry_ . She thought it was really cool that Ms. Sylvester would call her Davies, even if her legal name was Berry.   
  
That blonde girl, Quinn Fabray, had mostly ignored her since the first day of school. Quinn was apparently a Cheerio, which Rachel still felt was a ridiculous name for a cheerleading squad. Rachel tried not to engage with anyone at school, but everyone at the school talked so much shit about everyone else, that even Rachel managed to hear stuff. Apparently, Quinn had a reputation for being a bitch, which didn’t quite make sense to Rachel, but whatever. She also heard about some (obviously) unplanned pregnancy the year before and a child given up for adoption. Rachel didn’t want to know stuff like that about other people because it made her feel sympathy for them and at the moment, she honestly just wanted to focus on herself.   
  
She wasn’t trying to make any friends. She just wanted to be in and out of high school. She didn’t even care about extracurricular activities anymore. Her college applications would just have to make do without them.  
  
Since her explosion at Karofsky, students and faculty generally left her alone. Except for Ms. Pillsbury, the guidance counselor, but Rachel expected that.  
  
She shuffled into Ms. Pillsbury’s office on Monday morning before first period for a mandatory session.   
  
“Hi Rachel,” Miss Pillsbury greeted.  
  
“Hi.”  
  
“How was your weekend?”  
  
Rachel shrugged.  
  
Miss Pillsbury looked at her sympathetically. “I’m not sure anyone here has said this to you yet, but I’m really sorry about your mom. Losing a parent is not only painful, but it’s stressful. I can’t imagine how it must feel to be going through all this and not have your mother.”  
  
Rachel swallowed hard. Immediately after her mother died, people surrounded her with sympathy. But once her mother’s crime was discovered, her mother was vilified and most people agreed it was a good thing she was dead. But for her, losing her mother was the worst thing that ever happened to her. No one had said anything to her about losing her mother since they found out about the kidnapping. People commented on how it was a miracle she could come home after so long, but no one said anything about her mom. It was like people thought she should be glad she was dead.   
  
“Thanks,” Rachel said quietly.  
  
“You must miss her.”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“If you want to talk about her, my door is always open.”  
  
Rachel smiled wryly. “I thought I was supposed to come in here to talk about my unacceptable behavior.”  
  
Ms. Pillsbury smiled back. “There are always underlying needs and causes for one’s behavior. Maybe you’re acting in ways which get you into trouble because you need to be able to grieve your mother.”  
  
Rachel snorted. “What training manual did you read that from?” she asked, but she didn’t say it as spitefully as she could have.  
  
“I know this is a rough transition for you,” Ms. Pillsbury said. “But I also think you’re going to make it through, if you just let people reach out to you. I’ve looked for you during lunch last week, but I never saw you anywhere on campus. Where did you go?”  
  
Rachel shrugged. In truth, she couldn’t stand all the stares, so she spent all her lunch periods since the second day of school in a stall in the bathroom-- exactly the thing she hoped to avoid even if she realistically knew she’d end up doing it. She couldn’t bring herself to eat in there-- that would be disgusting and she’d be obsessed with thoughts of her food being covered in fecal matter. She wasn’t hungry anyway, so she just put her headphones in, propped her feet up against the locked door and read. She thought about her mother a lot. She pocketed the lunch money her fathers gave her and saved it. She wasn’t sure what she was saving it for. Sometimes she thought about running away, but she didn’t have the kind of heart that could do that to her fathers-- they were essentially strangers to her, but they’d suffered enough already.   
  
Ms. Pillsbury sighed and Rachel was tempted to point out a proper guidance counselor tended to conceal their exasperation, but she didn’t have the energy. They talked for a while and then she was dismissed so she could go to her first class.  
  
\--  
  
After the first month, people stopped staring so much at her in class and as she walked down the hall. Her dads were finally giving her more space, too. They were still way overprotective-- one of them always drove her to school every morning. They were both still at work when school was dismissed, so she just walked home. But she had to call them  _both_  to let them know she made it home okay and if she forgot, they always called her, sounding a little frantic.   
  
She understood why they were doing it. She tried to think about it from their perspective. She knew they loved her and the walls were adorned with her pictures from the time she was born to when she was four years old. The first month she was in their house, they took multiple pictures of her every day and now they were everywhere. She used to love having her picture taken. Her mother used to take her picture a lot, too. Claire used to say ‘you can smell a camera,’ and Rachel thought it was good practice for when she got famous. But somehow having her fathers want to take her picture each day just made her feel bad. She felt guilty for being the sort of stupid four year old kid that would follow a stranger out of a park, because even if Rachel couldn’t remember that happening, that was  _clearly_  what happened. Sometimes her fathers talked about it, and speculated her mother drugged her to take her. They’d say things like ‘we taught you better than to leave with a stranger, so she must have drugged you!’ and she’d want to point out ‘you two  _left_  me there by mistake!’   
  
She knew they were just scared and she tried to be understanding. Sometimes they looked at her like she was going to be spirited away. But their fear and concern were stifling, too.   
  
The best part of her day was the four hours she was alone from the time she got home from school to when her father, Michael, came home from work. Her other father, Ronald, always came home about twenty to thirty minutes later. They ate dinner together and had stilted conversations before she excused herself to her room.  
  
This wasn’t her-- she loved to talk. Her mother fondly called her ‘my motormouth’ and she’d routinely received ‘talks too much in class’ as a comment from all of her teachers on her report cards. But she just couldn’t bring herself to  _speak_  anymore.  
  
She heard her fathers talking about her late at night. Sometimes one of them would get angry and would require soothing by the other. But what she heard most was their concern that she was too quiet. If they’d known her before she came back to Ohio, they would know that being too quiet was definitely not one of her problems.   
  
“What did that woman  _do_  to our baby? She was talking in full sentences by the time she was ten months old. Now she won’t talk!”  
  
“She just needs time.”  
  
But Rachel didn’t need time. She needed…she needed… she didn’t know what she needed. She needed all this not to be true.  
  
\--  
  
She was late to P.E. one day and Ms. Sylvester signed her up to clean the school’s in-door pool after school. She sighed, and accepted it without complaint because whining to Coach Sylvester would only further incur her ire. But she thought it was really weird that this school seemed to think manual labor was perfectly acceptable detention punishment. She texted her fathers to inform them she’d be late, and they texted her back to just call them when she got home.   
  
She arrived at the pool and was surprised to see Quinn Fabray there.  
  
The blonde had changed out of her ubiquitous Cheerios uniform into a pair of workout pants and a t-shirt. The Cheerios ponytail was still there though.  
  
“Hi,” Quinn said. “Coach said since I’m clearly retaining water, I might as well clean the pool before it gets filled.”  
  
Rachel frowned. “What a wildly inappropriate thing to say. You should file a complaint.”  
  
Quinn smiled wryly. “You really are new to this school aren’t you?”  
  
“It’s a very strange place,” Rachel acknowledged.   
  
Rachel excused herself to change into her gym clothes and pulled her hair into a ponytail. When she got back, Quinn was already in the pool while Sylvester was screaming about making it clean enough to lick Ethiopian food off it. The woman was completely perplexing and Rachel ignored her as she passed her. She climbed down the ladder into the deep end and grabbed a mop. The entire thing had to be scrubbed out. Once she was inside of it, it seemed much more daunting.  
  
Sylvester stalked off, arms still waving in the air.   
  
‘What a lunatic,’ Rachel thought ,shaking her head. The woman seemed like she could benefit from anti-depressants. Idly, Rachel wondered if there was a way to sneak some into those smoothies Coach Sylvester drank in the morning.   
  
They’d been scrubbing for an hour before either of them said anything more to the other.  
  
“You used to talk a lot more,” Quinn commented.   
  
Rachel shrugged lethargically.  
  
“You know, a lot of people think you’re creepy.”  
  
Rachel shrugged again.   
  
“They think your mother kidnapped you and kept you as her lesbian child sex slave.”  
  
Rachel threw down her mop in outrage. “They what?!”  
  
Quinn shrugged. “They think the reason you’re so creepy is because your mom did stuff to you.”  
  
“I’m not creepy,” Rachel refuted petulantly. Seriously? How could people think she was  _creepy_ . She’d heard a variety of adjectives ascribed to her in her life-- short, midget-like, dwarf-like, relentlessly cheerful, ridiculously loquacious,  _un_ charmingly oblivious, but she was a 5’2” high schooler who still occasionally watched  _The Wiggles_  and was obsessed with Broadway. People like her typically weren’t described as  _creepy_ . Hopelessly geeky, maybe. But  _creepy_ ?  
  
“I never thought you were,” Quinn offered up. “So  _did_  your mom do…weird stuff to you?”  
  
Rachel narrowed her eyes. “You’re going to report all this back to your little friends, aren’t you?”  
  
Quinn raised an eyebrow. “They aren’t little. They’re all at least two to three inches taller than you are. And we’re all just curious.”  
  
“You’ll just have to wait for my tell-all biography.”  
  
Quinn smirked. “You still want to be a star, huh?”  
  
Rachel stared at her. “You remember that about me?”  
  
“You’re kind of an urban legend around here,” Quinn said. “Parents used to use you as an example for why kids couldn’t do stuff. My mom wouldn’t let me go to the mall with my friends until I was fourteen. She was worried I’d get kidnapped. You’re more famous than the Lindbergh baby around here.”  
  
Rachel nodded thoughtfully. “Well, I  _am_  slightly more contemporary than the Lindbergh baby.”  
  
Quinn chuckled. “Yeah, but you’re not as cute.”  
  
Rachel made a face. She thought she was plenty cute.  
  
\--  
  
The rest of the time passed by pretty quickly. They didn’t talk much, which was a relief. But it wasn’t totally silent either, so at least it wasn’t as awkward.  
  
When Rachel left campus that day, she felt okay. Not good, but not bad either, which was a step up from all the other days she left that school. She had dinner with her fathers and managed to entertain them with a decent imitation of Sue Sylvester’s insanity. She even changed into a yellow tracksuit to do it. She had it from when she dressed up like Uma Thurman in  _Kill Bill_  one year for Halloween. Her fathers were entertained, and it was the first time in a long time their house was filled with genuine laughter.  
  
She went to bed that night feeling okay.  
  
\--  
  
The next day at school, there were stares and whispers again. She wondered what the hell was going on when that kid everyone called ‘Jewfro’ came up to her with a video camera.  
  
“Did you really used to have sex with your mother? What was it like being the sex slave of someone that hot?”  
  
She was utterly appalled and grabbed his video camera away from him to hit him with it.   
  
\--  
  
The rumors spread like wildfire and they all originated from one source: Quinn Fabray.  
  
The thought anyone could think those things about her and her mother disgusted her. But more than anything else, it hurt that her mother’s reputation became even more tarnished.  
  
Yes, her mother stole her. But her mother never abused her. Not in  _any_  way. If anything, her mother protected her from it.   
  
By the end of first period, it was too much and she fled the campus to go home. This school was ridiculous. People were calling out things to her, saying such disgusting things in the middle of class and Mr. Schuester wasn’t doing  _anything_ . She hated him.   
  
She curled up in bed and grabbed her cell phone with the San Diego number. She still had two cell phones. It was sort of ridiculous because she never answered the San Diego number when it rang or responded to texts, except to talk to her stepfather, Rob. In truth, she kept it off most of the time, except when she really needed a pick-me-up, because when she turned it on, there were always texts from Claire. She still had no reason to use the cell phone with the Lima number other than to call her fathers because she didn’t have any friends.   
  
She curled up and calculated the time difference. Since it was nine thirty in Lima, it was still only six thirty in San Diego. It was highly likely Claire would still be asleep, but Rachel decided to call anyway.  
  
Claire answered after two rings.  
  
“Rachel!”  
  
“There’s a rumor around my school that I used to have sex with my mother,” Rachel sobbed. “So now she’s not just a kidnapper, she’s a…a…” she choked off into a sob. Dave Karofksy had greeted her smirking in the hall before first period and told her ‘your mother was a babyfucker, freak.’   
  
Rachel just cried for a while and Claire was mostly quiet, although she interjected a few times to murmur, “it’s okay, Rach. Take your time. I’m here.”  
  
Claire spoke when Rachel finally calmed down enough that she wasn’t outright sobbing.  
  
“You okay, be fri?”  
  
Rachel sniffled. “Yeah,” she said softly.   
  
“So tell me exactly what’s going on.”  
  
“I went to school today and people were talking about me. They hadn’t done that in a while and then I found out there are rumors at school saying that I confirmed to this girl that my mother used to…molest me,” Rachel said, her voice trembling. “They were saying things like, ‘your mother was a babyfucker’ and just…they’re  _maligning_  her, Claire. They’re saying things that are so incredibly untrue. I can’t believe anyone would deign to believe these flagrant prevarications.”  
  
“How the hell did rumors like that get started?”  
  
“I had detention yesterday--”  
  
“ _You_  had detention?”  
  
“I know,” Rachel said with a soft laugh. “But I didn’t bother trying to talk myself out of it. It would have been very futile. The woman who doled out the punishment is psychotic and unreasonable. In any case, my punishment was to clean this empty pool--”  
  
“So, like, Ohio rolls with hard labor in schools? I thought that was some foreign boarding school disciplinary shit. Like that Chinese boarding school my mom is always threatening to send me off to.”  
  
“It’s like a whole other world,” Rachel said, wiping at her eyes.  
  
“Okay. Continue.”  
  
“This girl, Quinn, she had to clean it with me. She was the one who told me that there were rumors at school that my mother took me so she could keep me around as a sex slave.”  
  
“That’s sick,” Claire muttered. “Your mom wasn’t like that!”  
  
“I know!” Rachel said. “I couldn’t believe they would say that!”  
  
“It’s because they didn’t know her, friend. If they knew her, they’d know she could never do that to you. You were everything to her.”  
  
“ _Yeah_ ,” Rachel said, and she felt herself breaking down again. “The  _things_  people are saying about her. It’s  _horrible._ . How can they say stuff like that about her? They didn’t even know her! How can people say such mean things about someone they don’t even  _know_ ? I don’t understand this school. I don’t understand the people here! They seem so  _mean_  and I really thought people in these small, Midwestern towns were supposed to be super nice, but no one even wants to talk to me. They just stare at me like I’m a freakshow and they talk about me behind my back. Sometimes right in front of my face! They’ll just point at me, whisper and laugh. Right in front of me! They know I’m there! And I have to pretend like it doesn’t bother me, but it  _does_ and I can’t talk to my dads about it because they’ve  _already_  been through enough and anyway, I don’t want them to know about it. What are they going to do about it? Do you know what people are saying about them? People say they deserved their kid to get kidnapped because they’re gay and that they’re horrible parents because of what happened at the park. And they’re  _not_  terrible! I just don’t understand how any of this is happening. And now people are saying my mom was a  _child molester_ , that’s like the worst thing anyone can say about a person. I just…I don’t know what to do anymore. I’m not sure how much more I can take this school,” Rachel said, her voice breaking again, and it was like a  _dam_  was bursting. She began to sob  _again_ , but managed to reign in her emotions. “I don’t know how much I can take anything!”  
  
“Oh, Rachel. Oh, baby,” Claire said sympathetically. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know it was that bad. You should have called me. I know I couldn’t have really done anything for you, but that sounds  _awful_ . I’m sorry, honey. I’m so sorry, sweetheart. What can I do? You know my dad’s Irish and my mom’s Chinese. Between the two of them, they  _have_  to know someone or know someone who knows someone who’d murder some people. What can I do? Tell me what I can do to make you feel better? Do you want to watch  _Funny Girl_  together? I’ll pop my copy in and you can do that same.”  
  
Hearing all that empathy in Claire’s voice caused Rachel to dissolve into tears again and it took a few more minutes for Rachel to stop crying again. When she finally did, she took a few shuddering breaths and wiped at her eyes. She wanted to take up Claire’s offer about  _Funny Girl_  but she needed to get one more thing off her chest.   
  
“That girl-- Quinn. She must have told people that I said my mom did those things to me! That’s what people are saying, that I ‘confessed’ all that to Quinn!”  
  
“Is that something you think she’d do?”  
  
“I don’t even know her!” Rachel exclaimed. “I’ve just been trying to be invisible.”  
  
“Babe. Have you made  _any_  friends? I know you said people don’t talk to you, but I  _know_  you. You… you can, like, talk to a piece of string. I could never take you anywhere because you were  _always_  talking to someone and making friends with strangers.”  
  
“Define ‘friend,’” Rachel said sullenly.  
  
“Don’t make me pull out a dictionary, be fri.”  
  
“Okay, no.” Rachel said. “I haven’t made any friends here. But I told you how weird people are in this town! If I make friends, I might end up like that guy in  _Audition_ . I still hate you for making me watch that, by the way. There’s no way that was an equitable trade for  _Funny Girl_ . And I don’t need more friends. I have plenty of them already!”  
  
“Yes,” Claire said dryly. “And we’re all waiting for you to call at least one of us back.”  
  
Rachel laughed nervously. “I’ve been very busy?” she said, presenting it as a question.   
  
“Whatever, bitch,” Claire said, and Rachel could just picture her friend rolling her eyes. “And by the way?  _Audition_  is totally a fair trade for Streisand, don’t get it wrong.”  
  
“What?!” Rachel shrieked, momentarily forgetting about all her distress because Barbra Streisand was clearly totally maligned.  
  
Claire chuckled. “I knew that’d get you.”  
  
“Whatever,” Rachel said sullenly.   
  
“Okay, so anyway. This Quinn girl. Do you know for sure she spread those rumors about your mom? Or do you think they’re screwing with her, too and trying to make her out to be some horrible gossip?”  
  
“I don’t know,” Rachel said. “But she’s the only one who could have. People are saying I disclosed that to her, which is  _ridiculous_  and apparently she has a reputation for being a bitch at school. She’s a cheerleader, and they’re all bitches at this school. It’s not like our school, where they were too rotund to join the dance team. These girls are terrible. But she’s actually been fairly kind to me which is why I’m so baffled by this. She was nice to me on the first day of school and she was even pretty nice to me yesterday. This feels like it just came out of the blue. I’m just so confused, but I know she’s responsible for people saying that awful stuff about my mom. I’m not used to people being nice to my face and then going behind my back like this! When people don’t like me, they’re usually very upfront about it and I prefer it that way!”  
  
“So what did you do to her to get suspended?”  
  
Rachel blinked in consternation. “What makes you think I got suspended?”  
  
“Well, you must have done  _something_  to get sent home from school this early. So what did you do?”  
  
Rachel blushed. “I actually left after first period.” She snorted. “My stupid Spanish class. I couldn’t take it there anymore.”  
  
“Rachel! Don’t tell me you ran away like some crybaby bitch!”  
  
“I wouldn’t qualify it as ‘running away,’” Rachel said defensively. “Mostly, I walked. With my head held high, might I add. You know I have excellent posture. ”  
  
“Rachel, you have to go back there and krav maga that bitch. She can’t get away with it! Christ, Rachel. You never back down from anything. Your mother would kick your ass if she were still alive for running away.”  
  
“If she were still alive, I wouldn’t be in this mess,” Rachel said frostily.   
  
“I know,” Claire said, contrite. She sighed. “Sorry. But do you remember what I said to you the day we met?”  
  
“You said, ‘get out of my way, bitch.’ I found that particularly appalling because we were six.”  
  
“True,” Claire said. “But what came out of your mouth was way worse.”  
  
Rachel blushed and chuckled. “I know.”  
  
She’d heard one of her mother’s coworkers say it to one of her bosses once and it seemed like the right occasion. Back then, she had no idea what ‘eat me raw, bitch,’ even meant, but she knew it was bad ass and her mother encouraged her to be tough.   
  
“I told you if you hadn’t stepped up to me, I probably would have pushed you again.”  
  
Rachel chuckled. “Yeah.”  
  
“Look, Rach. It doesn’t matter if you live here in San Diego or if you’re in some hillbilly town in the Midwest. It doesn’t matter if you’re Rachel Davies, Rachel Corcoran or Rachel Berry. It doesn’t matter if you’re the star of the glee and dance teams or a high school nobody. You have been my best friend since we were six. You were my first kiss, my first time and my first everything. You’re my best friend and you’re my girl, and I don’t mean it in a ‘you’re my girl, dawg’ sort of way. I mean it in a ‘you are the love of my life and I’d literally do anything for you’ sort of way. And the Rachel I know would not let some bitchy Midwestern cheerleader disgrace her mother’s memory or get away with being such a cunt to her. So you go back to that school and you stand up for yourself, or I swear to  _God_ , I’m going to come out there this weekend and kick your ass!”  
  
Rachel knew it was a pep talk intended to pump her up. They did that for one another. But the thing was, Rachel felt all alone here. Back home, she’d had her best friend, her mother, her stepfather and a motley crue of people who supported her. Here, she was a sideshow.   
  
“It’s not that easy,” Rachel said quietly. “You have no idea what the school is like here. It’s baffling. My first day here, an oaf from the wrestling team threw a Slushie in my face right in front of my Spanish teacher and my Spanish teacher didn’t  _do_  anything. People keep doing things like that here and it’s like living in bizarro world. I don’t understand how anything works around here. This other student, Kurt, he’s obviously gay and these Cro-Magnons from the football team toss him in the dumpsters every day because of it. And you’d think they’d back down, because he won’t back down. But they keep doing it,  _every_  day.  _Right_  in front of teachers and administrators and no one does anything about it. It’s like I’m in a mental institute and the patients are running it. I’m completely out of my element. Back home, I would rally the other students, file a grievance, contact the school district, make an appointment with the superintendant and form a coalition of like-minded students to stamp out the bad element. Here, it seems like the bad element is in charge and it goes all the way to the top. I feel so helpless here.”  
  
“Didn’t you always say people should be the change they want to see in the world?” Claire asked gently. “That’s what you said when you dragged me all the way to LA with your mom during those Iranian revolution protests.”  
  
“That was through my awkward social justice phase,” Rachel said with a half-sob, half-laugh.  
  
“You’re still you, Rachel,” Claire said tenderly. “Whether you’re here or there. You’re still you. That bitch maligned your mother’s memory, Rachel. And she’s making your life hell. She made you  _cry_  and yeah, you’re kind of a wah wah crybaby, but you don’t cry like  _that_ . Ever. You can’t let that go. My best friend, the girl I grew up with, the one I had my first kiss with when we were ten…the girl I lost my virginity to in a night that was admittedly a lamentable lapse in judgment but I have no regrets about. That girl could never have let this go. You have to stand up for yourself. You’re braver than this, babe..”  
  
Rachel sniffled. “You think so?”  
  
“You’re my be fri. I’d never lie to you.”  
  
“Okay,” Rachel said softly.  
  
“You go back to school and you figure something out. If there is one thing I’ve learned about you, you are  _one_  sneaky bitch. You’re pretty ninja. It’s actually kind of weird. Have you given any further consideration into wearing a bell like I asked?”  
  
Rachel laughed softly “Yeah, yeah okay. Shut it, Duffy. Uh, you have to get up to get ready, right?”  
  
“Yeah,” Claire said. She paused. “Hey.”  
  
“Yes?”  
  
“I missed you. Start writing me back and stuff, okay? I’m not used to one-sided conversations with you. That’s more your thing with me.”  
  
Rachel laughed softly. “I’m sorry,” she said regretfully. “I never meant to hurt you and I’ve missed you, too. It’s just…talking to you, it makes this whole thing so…” she trailed off.  
  
“Real,” Claire supplied. “I get it. You’re an ostrich, I know. You think sticking your head in the ground will make the problem go away. But you’re my best friend. I deserve better. We’ve been friends longer than you’ve been fucked up. You owe it to me to at least return a phone call. I’ve really needed you these past few months.”  
  
“I’m sorry,” Rachel said, contrite. “Is everything okay? Are you okay? How have you been?”  
  
“Well, I’m pregnant.”  
  
“WHAT?!”  
  
Claire laughed. “I’m kidding. Christ, I may be stupid, but I’ve got common fucking sense. I’m on the pill and I’ve got, like, a drawer full of condoms. If I got pregnant, my mom would beat the embryo out of me. And I’d let her. A baby is more fatal than a STD, you know.”  
  
“Don’t scare me like that, stupid.”  
  
“Why? It’s not like the baby would have been yours. The last time we slept together was over a year ago.”  
  
“The first and only time,” Rachel pointed out. “Don’t twist it.”  
  
“It was a very romantic night,” Claire said defensively. “I have very fond memories of it.”  
  
“We got drunk on Boones and Schnapps and got overly sentimental listening to Third Eye Blind,” Rachel said wryly. “That’s hardly romantic.”  
  
“You’ve always got to be a Negative Nelly. Can’t you just think of it as the night we finally got the whole virginity thing over with? It was a very positive experience for me. And since you’re the type who discusses things endlessly, I know you found me ‘suitably adequate,’ thanks so much for the glowing reviews by the way. Anyway. I have to shower. You go back to school and you kick some ass, whether it be figurative or metaphorical, I don’t care. Just do it. And if you need me to be an alibi, you know I’ve got your back. Let me know how it goes, okay?”  
  
“Yes,” Rachel said. She hesitated. “I love you, Claire. I’ve missed you so much.”  
  
“Stop getting so sentimental on me. I’m going to think you’re going to off yourself. You go back to school and kick some blond ass.”  
  
“How do you know she’s blond?”  
  
“Girls like that are always blond, even when they’re not. Anyway. Keep your head up, be fri. Later, okay?”  
  
“Later,” Rachel promised.   
  
\--  
  
She took a deep breath, washed her face, redid her makeup and sat around for a while looking at an old photo album with pictures of her mom and her. She made it back to school by fourth period, which was right before lunch. People were snickering and staring at her, but she paid them no heed.  
  
She passed Quinn Fabray in the hall and the blonde met her eyes steadily.   
  
That was all Rachel needed to know.  
  
\--  
  
During lunch she sought out the kid in the wheelchair, Artie. She’d heard him wax rhapsodic about some audio visual club stuff, so she knew he would know what to do. He was sitting with that Asian goth girl, Tina, the one who’d reminded her so much of Claire that first day of school, it’d made her heart ache. Back in middle school, Claire had dyed parts of her hair blue, but then her mom got mad and made her dye it back. Tina was sitting in the lap of her boyfriend, Mike, who was so adorable, Rachel wanted to steal him away on the spot. Not that she would ever actually do such a thing, but still. Rounding out their little group was Kurt Hummel and Mercedes Jones with whom she shared her Spanish class.   
  
Rachel walked up to Artie and smiled. “Hi, you’re Artie, right? I think you can help me with something. Can we go somewhere and talk for a few minutes?”  
  
He and his friends stared at her, startled.   
  
“Uh, sure,” he said. He wheeled himself after her.  
  
\--  
  
She cut right to the chase. “I’m sure you’ve heard the latest rumors about me today, correct?”  
  
He had the good grace to blush. “Uh…”  
  
“It’s not true,” she said bluntly. “It’s a fabrication. I served out a detention witih Quinn Fabray yesterday and today I came to school to find that people think my mom…” Rachel had to pause as her voice cracked. “My mom was a good person and I can’t let people think such disgusting things about her. I don’t care so much about what people say or think about me. But my mom…” her voice faltered. “that’s a whole other story. I need to set the record straight and I really need your help to hijack the PA system,” she said, looking at him pleadingly.   
  
He must have had a soft spot for desperate girls, because he only paused for about a second before he agreed.  
  
\--  
  
She didn’t want to implicate him, so she waited until everyone was in fifth period before she made her move.   
  
She got into the PA system and cleared her throat.   
  
“Hello,” she said. “Some of you may know me as Rachel Davies or Rachel Berry. I’m that girl you’ve all been staring and whispering at since I got here, but particularly today. I’m here to clear up some rumors. My mother did not sexually molest me. She did not take me for the express intent to keep me as a sexual or love slave or any other type of servitude. This is a disgusting fabrication perpetrated by your head Cheerio, Quinn Fabray. We served out some tedious undeserved punishment together yesterday and she opportunistically seized that to fabricate a story to malign my mother and make my life difficult. But I would  _never_  confide  _anything_  into the likes of Quinn Fabray. I categorically deny any of her vicious lies and oh, Quinn? Fuck you,” Rachel said frankly. “I’m very glad I had the opportunity to clear all of this up,” she added.  
  
She shut off the PA and strolled into her fifth period class which she shared with Quinn.  
  
Once she came inside, the entire class buzzed even louder with chatter, despite the teacher’s best attempts to control it. She’d already sat down before Mr. Hendricks had the good sense to send her to the principal’s office.  
  
She nodded coolly and practically skipped out of the room.  
  
Rachel knew Claire was right. It didn’t matter if she was Rachel Davies, Rachel Corcoran or Rachel Berry. She didn’t take this kind of fuckery lying down. 


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3  
  
  
  
Apparently standing up to Quinn Fabray earned her some street cred or something, because people began eyeing her with some respect. Quinn hissed “watch your back, Treasure Trail” at her that day, but other than a few crude names, nothing else had been done in the past few weeks. Rachel suspected as much because people like there were mostly just talk. Besides, most of the school knew she could fight from the Karofsky incident, so no one was going to take her on physically. Granted the girls on the Cheerios team were calling her names like RuPaul, Tranny, Treasure Trail, Midget, Yentl and Smurfette but at least they weren’t maligning her mother anymore. It was sad how her life had turned into one big, fat yo-mama joke and she was the outraged kid sobbing on the playground.   
  
After that day, she ate lunch with Artie, Tina, Mike, Mercedes and Kurt. It just kind of happened. The day after her PA announcement, Mike was in her fourth period class and after class, he picked up the books from her desk, slung her pink backpack over his left shoulder, offered her his arm and just walked her to the cafeteria for lunch. His invitation to friendship was that gentle and that simple. She was so very grateful for it.   
  
And so, two months into her new school, she finally had a table to sit with during lunch. They certainly were a strange group, but some of them reminded her of her friends back home and she was grateful to have them.  
  
\--  
  
Then one day, about three months into the semester, in early December, Mr. Ryerson, the creepy glee coach got fired for improper relationships with male students. Rachel wasn’t surprised-- the guy was trying to get her hooked on drugs or something and she knew he was shady. She was glad to see him go. If she’d had the energy, she would have ensured his firing herself because he was also a terrible history teacher.   
  
Mr. Schuester took over as the glee coach, and for some reason, Artie, Tina, Kurt and Mercedes found that exciting. Mike was more rational and seemed indifferent. Rachel didn’t like Mr. Schuester-- a teacher like him who seemed more concerned about being liked than teaching, didn’t step in on behalf of his students, played obvious favorites and seemed inappropriately involved in the lives of his students, would have  _so_  been fired at her old school. She wasn’t sure how long he’d been teaching, but he really needed to be evaluated.   
  
“But you sing!” Kurt exclaimed excitedly.  
  
Rachel was displeased. “How do you know that?”  
  
Kurt and Mercedes exchanged a look.   
  
“We Googled you,” Kurt said. “We found your glee and dance performances from your old school.”  
  
Rachel pursed her lips.  
  
“Don’t kill them,” Tina said. “I know I look goth and I like the way I look. But I don’t want blood on my clothes. It’s very difficult to get out.”  
  
“The trick is to presoak,” Kurt and Rachel said together.  
  
They shared a smile, but Rachel returned to the topic at hand. “I’m not joining.”  
  
She could just imagine a glee club at this school where she joined up with Kurt, Mercedes, Artie and Tina. Those four being led by Mr. Schuester was already sort of pitiful. But when she was added to the mix, she just knew they’d be misfits.  
  
\--  
  
Somehow, however, they convinced her into auditioning. And dear God, she liked it. She missed performing, even if it was for some meager little audience.   
  
When she told her dads, they seemed so happy.  
  
“It’s like we have you back,” one of them told her.  
  
He meant well, but she found it totally offensive because she’d  _been_  back.   
  
\--  
  
Rachel had her suspicions about why Finn would join the team-- he seemed nervous and not at all inclined to join. She was fairly certain Schuester was blackmailing Finn into it, which seemed like a Schuester thing to do. He clearly wanted more people on the team so they could qualify for competitions so he could live out some high school fantasy or whatever. He was always going on about when he was a student at McKinley on the glee team, back when being in glee was apparently cool and not an invitation to be Slushied.   
  
Rachel knew she was being entirely uncharitable to Mr. Schuester. He was actually a nice guy, but she just didn’t think he was much of a teacher. Being a nice person didn’t mean he was  _competent_ .  
  
Finn managed to convince Noah Puckerman and Matt Rutherford to join the team. Tina cajoled Mike into joining. For whatever reason, Quinn Fabray and her minions, Santana Lopez and Brittany Pierce also joined and then, their team really did have enough to qualify for competing.   
  
It was so close to what she wanted, and yet so far away.   
  
Claire had told her ‘just go with it’ and Rachel was going to try to do that. She still felt completely off-balance, like she’d been sucked into some alternate world. She couldn’t seem to find her bearings, but she really wanted to try. She had no other choice. She wasn’t sure what she would do if she kept feeling this lost. She wasn’t sure she’d even want to survive if she kept feeling like this.   
  
\--  
  
It was weird, but despite some continued bullying at school, her life was starting to become a lot like the life she had back home, but still a little worse. They were even going to compete at Regionals, even though they hadn’t even performed at Invitationals. Somehow, Ms. Pillsbury found a loophole.   
  
The glee team she’d been on at her old school earned eight National titles across eight consecutive years. She’d been the captain of her old team since her freshman year and had taken her team to two Nationals victories, so she knew something about competing-- more than a little, actually. But every time she tried to make a suggestion, Quinn and her minions denigrated it and Mr. Schuester shut her down. She really didn’t get it. She had two Nationals titles under her belt, what did Schuester have? A piece of shit car and a terrible marriage-- neither of those tidbits were things she should have known, but Mr. Schuester tended to over-share. A lot.   
  
She didn’t even know why she bothered. Her old glee director hated her and hated her mother, because her mother always tried to take over. She’d overheard a few screaming matches between the two of them where Mr. Graddick would lose his temper and tell her mother to coach her own show choir team if she wanted to meddle so much in his. Graddick hated her, but he respected talent, so he’d always managed to put his personal feelings aside and listened to her with professional courtesy. Rachel always respected him because of it, even though she hated him right back. Anyone who was that horrible to her mother was on her hate list.   
  
\--  
  
Mr. Schuester tended to pair her up with Finn during glee practices, which Rachel thought was really weird. She was fine with being the lead-- she was very comfortable in the fact that she had the strongest voice out of all the girls and clearly had the most training. All the girls were pretty good-- even Quinn, though Rachel hated to admit it. But Rachel was confident enough in her talent to know she was the best girl. She didn’t have the most robust self-esteem, especially lately. But she was confident about her talent and she knew she was the best. It wasn’t hubris when it was factually-based.   
  
She honestly thought Artie or Noah had the best singing voices out of the boys. Noah was more lead material than Artie and her voice paired with Noah’s better. Finn’s voice was unpolished and lacked control. In terms of vocal ability, he was nowhere near Artie or Noah, but still Mr. Schuester insisted on turning Finn into a lead. Rachel found it bizarre. She even had a tiny crush on the lumbering doofus-- he was sweet, though dim. But she still didn’t think he was leading man material.   
  
Finn was also Quinn’s boyfriend-- she thought two people dating with rhyming names was sort of silly. Mr. Schuester forcing her together with Finn in glee was making Quinn even more spiteful towards her, although it was mostly by hurling simple epithets at her which Rachel tended to ignore. Rachel tried to think of insults for Quinn, but the blonde was frustratingly perfect. At least, in terms of appearance. And anyway, Rachel tried not to lower herself to mock people about their personal appearance. Even though she was living in bizarro world now, that didn’t mean she had to stoop to their lvel.   
  
Rachel just wished Schuester would go by talent and pair her up with Noah or Artie. Schuester’s insistence of (unfairly) making Finn the male lead was making her a target for the Cheerios and that did not endear Schuester to her.   
  
“Enjoy this time,” Rachel told Quinn after the blonde addressed her as ‘Tranny’ (as in,’get away from my boyfriend, Tranny, before you turn him gay.’) “Your life will never get better than high school, Quinn. I will get out of this small town and in thirty years, I won’t even remember your name and this will seem like a bad dream. I will have an EGOT and a multitude of accolades to my name. I will be revered.  _You’ll_  still be here, probably as some out-of-shape, middle-aged, Botoxed hausfrau who dabbles in real estate and closes one or two deals a year, mostly for family and friends so you can pretend you have a career.”  
  
She’d flounced away before Quinn could react.   
  
She was starting to come into her own at this school. She still felt lost, but it wasn’t as painful as it was in the beginning. Her mother once told her ‘a person can get used to anything’ and she was discovering that her mother was right. She didn’t know which way was up or down anymore, but it didn’t take as much effort to force her eyes open and get through the day.   
  
She was adjusting.   
  
“You still sound sad though, friend,” Claire told her one night.  
  
“I guess I am” Rachel admitted.   
  
But she didn’t know what the hell she was going to do about it. If people knew how to stop being sad, maybe the world wouldn’t be as awful as it was. Rachel always thought she was special-- her mother had always told her she was, so this is what Rachel grew up believing. But she didn’t know how to do something as basic as making herself feel better. Maybe she wasn’t so special after all.   
  
\--  
  
One day after school, she was going down the stairs of Building T just as Quinn was going up. Quinn paused to stare at her on the fourth step from the bottom. Rachel expected the blonde to call her a name, but instead, the blonde nonchalantly threw the Slushie she was drinking in Rachel’s face.   
  
Quinn continued up the steps and Rachel turned around after wiping some Slushie out of her eye to confront the blonde.   
  
“You--”  
  
Rachel didn’t get to finish her sentence because when she took another step to follow Quinn, she slipped and lost her footing.  
  
With a shriek, she blindly groped for the handrail, but she still stumbled down the steps and hit the ground with a groan.  
  
“Rachel!”  
  
Quinn ran down the steps and crouched down next to her.   
  
“Rachel? Rachel, are you okay?” Quinn said frantically. “Are you hurt? Wait. Don’t move. Let me get a nurse. Hold on, okay? I--”  
  
Rachel tried to catch her breath. She’d turned her ankle, and it throbbed a bit, but it likely wasn’t sprained. All she needed was a couple of hours and she was sure she’d be fine. Her knees, shins and back hurt, but she was otherwise uninjured. It wasn’t as though she broke her neck-- although she could have.   
  
Quinn was babbling through an apology, but Rachel didn’t want to hear it. This had gone far enough.   
  
She sat up as Quinn was readying to get the nurse. Rachel pulled her fist back and punched Quinn in the cheek.   
  
Quinn stumbled back, clutching her cheek.  
  
“What is your problem?” Rachel shouted, standing up with difficulty. “I’ve never done anything to you!” She was dangerously close to tears. She didn’t know how she was going to survive in this school when  _this_  sort of thing could happen to her at any time. She didn’t know if the other students at McKinley were just tougher than she was or what, but this was too much for her to deal with, because they all seemed to think it was normal, even the ones who were bullied. She couldn’t handle this. She wasn’t strong enough to handle  _this_  on top of everything else she was handling.   
  
She just found Quinn so baffling. Her first day at this school, Quinn had actually been kind of  _nice_  to her. And now Quinn was tormenting her. She didn’t get it. She didn’t even think she did anything to deserve this. All she ever tried to do was stay out of the way.   
  
“I didn’t mean to make you fall,” Quinn muttered, still clutching her cheek. Her eyes were tearing up from the pain.   
  
“Well, considering we were on stairs, I think it was a reasonably foreseeable possibility!” Rachel exclaimed. “What is wrong with this school?” she shouted in frustration. “What’s wrong with you?! I’ve never done anything to you! I’m trying to stay out of your way! Why do you keep coming after me?!”  
  
“Are you okay?” Quinn asked quietly.  
  
Rachel glared at her.”I’m fine, considering I’m covered in ice and artificial flavoring and just tumbled down some stairs. I’m  _fine_ , no thanks to you.” Rachel scowled again and began limping toward the bathroom to clean up before her walk back home. She knew she could tough it out, but she wasn’t looking forward to her walk home.  
  
Quinn followed after her. “I’ll give you a ride,” she offered quietly.   
  
“Why?” Rachel snapped. “So you can find out where I live and you can make my life as difficult at home as you do at school? No, thank you. Just go away. Leave me  _alone_ . I don’t want to be at this school any more than you want me here. Believe me, if it were up to me, I wouldn’t be here! Just leave me alone!”  
  
“I already know where you live,” Quinn said quietly. “You live on Easton, five blocks from me. We had a playdate at your house a couple weeks before your mother…” she trailed off.  
  
Rachel clenched her jaw. “Shut up about my mother. Don’t say anything,” she warned.  
  
“You’re limping,” Quinn said quietly. “I’ll give you a ride home. I already know where you live. I won’t do anything. I promise.”  
  
Rachel wanted to refuse but she knew it would hurt to walk home and she just wanted this day over with. She just wanted to go home. She thought about calling Mike or Kurt. Of her friends at McKinley, they were the only one who had cars and she was pretty certain either of them would come to collect her, even if they were already home. But she was too weary to bother calling either of them. “Fine. But I’m not cleaning up. You deserve to get Slushie all over your car. I just want to get away from this place.”  
  
Rachel knew it was petty and Quinn looked sort of amused. But that was just how she felt.  
  
“Okay,” Quinn said.  
  
\--  
  
Rachel got into Quinn’s car. Quinn turned on the ignition and Rachel was surprised to hear Danny Calvert singing ‘Kiss the Air’ from the ‘Dreaming Wide Awake’ CD. Rachel listened to that CD quite a lot herself, and she didn’t think Quinn was the showtunes type, especially considering how much Quinn and her Cheerios friends mocked her when she wanted to sing Broadway in glee.   
  
Rachel raised an eyebrow, but didn’t comment. Quinn shut off her stereo.  
  
They drove in silence.   
  
Quinn pulled in front of Rachel’s house.   
  
“Thank you,” Rachel said out of a sense of ingrained politeness. She instantly castigated herself for it though, because she honestly felt it was the least Quinn could do. But it would be petty to take it back.   
  
“I really didn’t mean to make you fall,” Quinn said quietly. “Are you sure you’re okay?”  
  
“Why don’t you just  _not_  do it again,” Rachel said. She got out of the car and strolled into her house.   
  
\--  
  
She was totally horrified the next day when she saw a large bruise on Quinn’s face that couldn’t be concealed with foundation, powder and blush. Rachel had been furious with Quinn, but seeing her handiwork like that…Rachel’s stomach turned. She didn’t want to be that kind of person. She wasn’t a violent person and she didn’t like what this place was turning her into.   
  
\--  
  
She waited all day for a chance to apologize, but Quinn was never alone. The whole school was buzzing with speculation about the bruise on Quinn’s face. The prevailing opinion seemed to be that Finn totally lost it and hit her. Rachel heard Jacob Ben Israel quip, ‘for every gorgeous woman is a man tired of her bullshit’ and she wanted to kick him in the groin. She’d castigated him for such a terrible comment.   
  
She also felt a little offended for Finn, who was a total teddybear. An idiot teddybear. Or maybe a stupid puppy, the kind that pees in one’s shoe, but he’s so cute, one can’t muster up the anger. Rachel was familiar with the kind of guys who hit and Finn wasn’t that kind of guy. She felt so sorry for him and she also felt really sorry for Quinn.  
  
\--  
  
She finally had her chance after glee rehearsal. She caught up to Quinn as the blonde walked to her car.   
  
“I’m sorry,” Rachel said, running up beside Quinn. “I lost my temper with you yesterday, but I had no idea I hit you that hard. I… I’m so sorry. It was inexcusable that I raised my hand to you.”  
  
Quinn stopped walking and faced Rachel. “I deserved it,” she said softly.  
  
Rachel smiled wryly and remembered all the times one of her mother’s boyfriends raised a hand to her or her mother. Her mother never took that kind of shit.   
  
“No one deserves to get hit like that, baby,” her mother told her as she grimly drove Rachel to the Emergency Room after an encounter with one such boyfriend. Rachel had been sorry, so damned sorry because her mother really seemed to love Tad. She blubbered through apologies and swore she’d been bad and she deserved it, because she knew her mother would dump Tad and then would be so sad afterward. She didn’t care about Tad, but she didn’t want to make her mother sad, and if pretending like Tad was in the right would prevent her mother from being sad, she would do it. Happily. But her mother was adamant. “No one deserves to get hit like that.”  
  
“No one deserves to get hit like that,” Rachel told Quinn quietly. “It’ll never happen again,” she said softly. “But know this. If you keep messing with me, I’ll figure some other way to get you back. But I won’t ever hit you again. You have my word. I am,” she took a deep breath, because it killed her to apologize to a person who’d been so awful to her, but she knew she had to. “So sorry,” she said.   
  
\--  
  
Rachel never had to think of alternative ways to get Quinn back, because after that day, Quinn really did leave her alone.  
  
Winter Break came, she turned sixteen and her fathers overcompensated by buying her a car. She couldn’t complain.   
  
\--  
  
She woke up on the morning of her actual birthday with someone poking her cheek. She frowned and slowly opened one eye. But both her eyes flew open when she saw her best friend’s face hovering over hers. It was, bar none, the creepiest way she’d ever woke up-- and she used to wake up in the middle of her night to her mother watching her sleep. So having Claire’s face hovering right above hers was  _creepy_ , but the sight of her was also insanely welcome.  
  
“Claire?!” Rachel sputtered, sitting up. She wondered if the past few months had been a dream ,but no, she looked around and this was the bedroom she had in her fathers’ house in Lima.   
  
Claire gave her a broad smile. “Happy birthday, stupid.”  
  
Rachel didn’t bother asking any questions. She just flung herself at her best friend.   
  
Claire chuckled and Rachel rocked her to-and-fro and allowed herself to be pulled down onto the bed. They’d hugged for a few minutes before Rachel finally spoke.  
  
“What are you doing here?!”  
  
“Remember when we Googled your dads and found the website of the law firm where your black dad is partner?  
  
Rachel grinned lopsidedly. “Yeah.”  
  
“I Googled him again and emailed him to ask if it were okay if I came out for visit. He said yes. He was really cool about it. He even paid for it, so you know my mom loves him. You know how tight my mom is with money, ‘I immigrated from China, I worked so hard for so little,’ blah blah blah.’ Anyway. Now here I am.”  
  
Rachel laughed softly. “You came out here for me?”  
  
Claire shrugged. “Well, it’s your sweet sixteen. And anyway, you said you weren’t going to do anything, which is totally unlike you. So I knew I had to come out.”  
  
Rachel smiled shyly. “I don’t really have any friends here yet. What’s the point?”  
  
“I thought you said that Mike guy is cute.”  
  
“He  _is_  cute. But he has a girlfriend.”  
  
“So? Take him. Once you go Asian, you can’t go back, you know.” Claire grinned crookedly. “I mean, after me, of  _course_  you’d get yellow fever.”  
  
Rachel rolled her eyes. “Don’t be stupid. He’s just a friend. I’d never do that to Tina. She’s my friend, too. I mean, I have friends, but just no one I’d know for sure would show up. I’m not really that close to them.”  
  
Claire nodded sympathetically. “Well,  _we_  can still do stuff. I’m sure  _we_  could make even  _Ohio_  interesting. Go get ready. Your fathers said they’d take us to breakfast.”  
  
Rachel smiled. “Okay.” She grinned and grabbed her friend again into a tight hug. “Thank you for coming!”  
  
\--  
  
The best part of having a best friend who had no qualms about embarrassing her was that Claire was great at breaking tension. Rachel just sat back at breakfast and let Claire tell one story after another. Her fathers laughed at their childhood antics and Rachel felt less like a freak. She almost wanted to tell them, ‘see? I wasn’t always the freak you obviously think I am.’ But she felt too good from the flood of memories that rolled over her. She was a singer, but Claire was a storyteller and listening to Claire recount some of their more hilarious times together was like actually re-living it.   
  
\--  
  
They spent Rachel’s actual birthday with her fathers, and Rachel could see that they appreciated that. She was so glad for having a buffer, because she didn’t know how she would have handled spending all that time with them on her own.  
  
But the rest of the week was theirs.  
  
\--  
  
On the second day of her stay, Claire insisted on a tour because she was apparently obsessed with photographing small town Americana lately or whatever. Rachel thought it was ridiculous because Lima was a pretty enough town, but hardly something a person needed to go out-of-the-way to photograph.   
  
They drove past Faurot Park and slowed down when Claire released a soft gasp after seeing a sign.   
  
Rachel pulled into it the parking lot. She’d studiously avoided this place, though she walked past and had been driven past it by her fathers. They never talked about it.  
  
They got out of the car and Rachel unconsciously stepped closer to Claire and grabbed her best friend’s hand in a tight grip as they took an exploratory walk around the park. Claire was gripping back just as hard and Rachel suddenly felt six instead of sixteen. They were both so quiet all of a sudden-- neither of them could say anything and Rachel was having a hard time regaining her bearings. The park itself was beautiful, but Rachel had a hard time breathing.   
  
“Do you think my mom planned it?” Rachel asked quietly. “Or do you think it was just a crime of opportunity.”  
  
Claire paused, clearly searching for the most diplomatic way to answer. She took a deep breath “Friend, I think for her not to get caught and get a fake name, a fake social security numbers and a fake birth certificate for you, she must have put a little planning into it.”  
  
Rachel flinched. “Oh,” she said softly.  
  
She knew Claire had a point, but that just sounded so  _awful_  like her mother was some career criminal or whatever. Her mother didn’t just come across her, lost and forgotten at the park and just seized an opportunity. Her mother clearly must have put thought into it   
  
“That doesn’t mean your mom was like Pinky though,” Claire said quickly. “It’s not like she was plotting to take over the world.”  
  
“It was Brain that was trying to take over the world,” Rachel informed softly. “Their theme song went ‘Pinky and the Brain brain brain brain.’ Brain was the evil one. Pinky was just dumb.”  
  
Claire fought a smile. “Oh yeah.”  
  
“You’re Pinky,” they said to one another in unison.   
  
Claire grinned and wrapped an arm around Rachel’s shoulder and led them back toward Rachel;s car. “Friend, find me a mall so I can buy you a proper present.”  
  
“Okay.”  
  
Claire raised an eyebrow. “You’re not going to protest that my mere presence here, thousands of miles from home, is enough?”  
  
“No,” Rachel said frankly. “It’s my sixteenth birthday which is a very momentous occasion in a girl’s life. I trained a carrier pigeon for your sixteenth birthday. I demand recognition for mine.”  
  
Claire shook her head. “That pigeon crapped on me.”  
  
“You weren’t engaging with him correctly.”  
  
“You’re an idiot.”  
  
“ _You’re_  an idiot,” Rachel shot back.  
  
It was quiet on the drive to the mall. Rachel turned on the car stereo and their mood was even further dampened by the exceedingly sad song on the radio. Rachel loved Sarah McLachlan, but this song was just adding to her very somber mood.  
  
Claire shut it off.   
  
Rachel turned to look at her questioningly.   
  
“That song always makes you cry because of those animal shelter commercials by the ASPCA.”  
  
Rachel fought a grin It was kind of true-- ‘Angel’ did make her a little weepy because of those commercials, but she was glad she still had someone who really knew her. She didn’t realize how lonely she’d felt until this moment when she realized she still had someone who knew her that well.   
  
\--  
  
They were wandering around the mall when Rachel caught sight of Quinn, Brittany and Santana. Rachel released a little groan.  
  
“That’s Quinn, Brittany and Santana,” Rachel whispered, discreetly pointing them out.   
  
“Which one is Quinn?”  
  
“The one on the right.”  
  
“Oh. She’s hot.”  
  
Rachel made a face. “Her attractiveness is sufficiently diminished by her horrible personality.”  
  
“They’re all hot.”  
  
“The same is true for all of them.”  
  
Claire chuckled “You know, back home, the same could have been said about you.”  
  
“Whatever.”  
  
“Let’s go say something to them. Like, ‘stay out of my way, bitches.’”  
  
Rachel shook her head. “They’re mostly leaving me alone now. I don’t want to rock the boat.”  
  
“It’s like you’re a completely different person sometimes,” Claire muttered.  
  
“Yeah, well. You can stir something up with them, but you get to leave. I have to be the one left to deal with it. Being brave is overrated. Cowards can have lives that are just as fulfilling as heroes.”  
  
“We can just say hi,” Claire offered.  
  
“I really don’t even want to deal with them if I don’t have to,” Rachel said quietly. “All I want is to fly under the radar here, but no one will let me do it.”  
  
“You’ve changed, friend,” Claire commented softly.   
  
“Please, let’s just go. I don’t want to deal with them.”  
  
“I’m not sure they feel the same way,” Claire said. “They’re headed our way.”  
  
Rachel sighed. She cursed inwardly.   
  
“Hey Midget,” Santana greeted as they walked past, her tone dripping with venom. “Who’s your mutt friend?”  
  
Santana, Quinn and Brittany kept walking without waiting for a response.  
  
Seeing the totally flummoxed way her normally very vocal, very feisty best friend reacted to Santana, Quinn and Brittany, Rachel felt a little less like a cowardly loser.  
  
Rachel gently shut Claire’s jaw which was hanging open.  
  
“Stunned is not a flattering look for you,” Rachel said gently.  
  
“It’s not really what she said, but how she said it,” Claire said, a little wonderingly.   
  
“Sometimes, it’s both.”  
  
“What a bitch.”  
  
“Yeah,” Rachel agreed.   
  
“You’re right. Totally less hot.”  
  
“See?”  
  
“I actually kind of feel like a dog right now, and come on, we all know that half-Asians are the hottest. I’m  _hot_ , but I feel like shit right now.”  
  
“Yes, you are,” Rachel soothed.  
  
Claire gave her a small smile. “You’re hot, too.”  
  
“Thank you,” Rachel said dryly. She paused. “Sometimes, it’s really hard to believe that living here.”  
  
“Low self-esteem is not a flattering look for you,” Claire joked.  
  
Rachel could only laugh in response, but the truth was, she’d never felt so bad about herself since coming to live here. So many of the girls were so beautiful here, that not only did she feel like a freak for having a mother who was a…a…child abductor, but she felt wildly unattractive, too.   
  
On a low self-esteem day years ago, Claire had once told her “you’re a skinny bitch with great bone structure and shiny hair, what part of that isn’t within the normal standards of beauty?” and Rachel had taken that to heart.   
  
Until she came here and people called her names like “Manhands” and “Tranny.” She still didn’t get the Smurfette thing at all, was that a jab at her stature, or a jibe at her appearance? She’d thought Smurfette was the cute smurf.   
  
“I feel awful here,” Rachel admitted quietly. “Like all the time. Every time I start to feel okay, someone just kicks me down. It’s like I’m ready to get punched in the face and they kick me in the stomach instead.”  
  
“Oh, friend,” Claire said softly. “This place isn’t worth you feeling this bad. What did Eleanor Roosevelt say? Something about no one can make you feel bad without your consent?”  
  
Rachel laughed darkly. “What a crock of shit.”  
  
Claire chuckled. “I know. But I just want you to feel better, Rach. This place really isn’t worth you feeling this bad. You don’t deserve this. Especially not during your birthday month. Come on. We can’t break tradition now. You always choose your present. Let’s find you a good one.”  
  
Rachel fought the urge to cry. It wasn’t so much seeing Claire, although that did feel amazing. It was more the reminder of home and how life used to make sense, once upon a time.   
  
\--  
  
They walked around for a while, but Rachel really didn’t expect her friend to buy her anything. She didn’t want anything either-- she was just happy to see her best friend again.   
  
“Well, at least let me buy you an iTunes gift card from the Apple store,” Claire said. “Even this yokel town has to have one.” She took Rachel by the hand and dragged her off in search of a mall directory.  
  
\--  
  
They walked to the Apple store and ran into Mike and Tina at the Apple store’s Genius Bar, since Mike needed his laptop fixed.   
  
“Mike! Tina!” Rachel said, greeting them, genuinely pleased. “Hi!”  
  
They each smiled at her. “Hey, Rachel,” they greeted in unison.   
  
“Hi, I’m Claire,” Claire said introducing herself by extending her hand.   
  
“Hi,” Mike said. He looked at her contemplatively. “You don’t live around here, do you?” he asked. “I haven’t seen you at the Chinese church.”  
  
“Again with the Chinese church,” Tina muttered. “We don’t all go to the Chinese church. I’m  _Jewish._ . Jewish!”  
  
Claire looked amused. “No, I live in San Diego. I just came out to visit Rachel for her birthday.”  
  
Mike and Tina both blinked.  
  
“Happy Birthday!” Mike exclaimed. He pulled Rachel into a hug and then pulled away, doing a little dance around Rachel, and then gallantly twirling her around.  
  
“It’s your birthday?” Tina asked as she watched her boyfriend and Rachel dancing. “How come you didn’t say anything?!”  
  
“She didn’t think you’d care,” Claire said, she eyed both of them and Rachel could tell her best friend was sizing her new friends up.   
  
“What?” Mike asked. “Why? It’s your birthday! You’re sixteen now, right? That’s an important one. “We should do something. What should we do?”  
  
Rachel giggled a little. If this boy weren’t already taken, she would have tried to claim him for herself already.   
  
Tina smiled at her. “Of course we’d care,” she said softly, giving Rachel a quick hug. “And we totally need to do something. “I’ll text Artie, Mercedes and Kurt. Do you want to hang out tonight?”  
  
“I…uh…okay,” Rachel stammered, clearly surprised. She really didn’t think anyone would care. After all, she really hadn’t known any of her new friends that long.   
  
“You’re really kind of stupid,” Claire told Rachel with obvious fondness. And Rachel understood immediately that Claire meant, ‘how could you think these people wouldn’t want to celebrate your birthday with you?’ and Rachel realized she didn’t give them enough credit.   
  
Mike looked disapproving. “It’s not nice to say stuff like that to someone on their birthday.”  
  
“It was yesterday,” Rachel told him.  
  
“Still.”  
  
“Artie, Mercedes and Kurt are in,” Tina announced, her eyes skimming through her phone.   
  
“Your fathers mentioned they were going to work late tonight, Rach.” Claire said. “Do you want to just do it at your house?”  
  
“We can do it a mine,” Mike offered. “My parents are out of town. So everyone can stay as long as they want.”  
  
“Can we?” Rachel asked Mike. “That would be wonderful.”  
  
The thing was, she still wasn’t comfortable inviting people over to her house. People were still driving by it as if they could catch her and her fathers doing something weird or picture-worthy. She liked her friends, but she wasn’t sure about inviting them over. Even Claire had wandered through the house looking at all the old photographs of her as a little kid that adorned the walls. She wasn’t ready for that kind of scrutiny on a larger scale yet.  
  
Mike smiled at her. “My house is yours for the night.”  
  
\--  
  
It was calm. It was nothing like the raucous celebrations Rachel used to have with friends in the past. There was minimal alcohol, for which Claire seemed disappointed, but at least there were no drunken arguments or sloppy drunks. And Rachel had to admit she vastly preferred having a more intimate party, even if it wasn’t exactly what she expected. And anyway, Kurt and Mercedes went out of their way to bake her a vegan cake and she couldn’t believe they even remembered she was vegan, let alone  _bake_  a vegan cake for her.  
  
These were good people. It took a while for Rachel to realize that, and she felt a little bad about how long it took her to figure that out. If she’d met them just a few months before, back before she lost her mom, she would have felt amazingly lucky to have met them. But she’d taken their friendship for granted because she was lost in her own head, mourning for a life she didn’t have any more.   
  
‘Momma,’ Rachel thought, reverting back to when she was a little kid. ‘Momma, you gave me a really good life. And you were a really good mom. But you did a very bad thing and I just need not to think about you for a while.’  
  
Rachel took another gulp of the glass of juice Mike set in her hand and smiled at him gratefully.   
  
This was her life now. She had nice dads, good friends and it wasn’t that bad.  
  
Rachel smiled at her friends, wanting to reach out to them, because they’d already reached out to her. “Do you guys want to come over to my house tomorrow and watch  _Funny Girl_ ?”  
  
They all smiled and nodded.   
  
“Do you want us to bring anything?” Mike asked.  
  
Rachel smiled. “Just yourselves.”  
  
\--  
  
On the last day of Claire’s visit, Rachel drove Claire to the airpor. Rachel parked her car and walked Claire into the terminal. This was as far as she could walk her friend before her friend had to pass through security.   
  
“Your friends seem really nice,” Claire said. “I liked them.”  
  
“They liked you, too. Should I be worried that they like you better than me?” Rachel joked.   
  
Claire smiled. “No, so stop being low self-esteemy,” she said bluntly. She dropped her carry-on to the ground and pulled Rachel into a tight hug.   
  
Rachel rested her cheek against her friend’s. “Thanks for coming.”  
  
Claire squeezed her tighter. “It’s going to be a while now before we get to hang out again,” she said softly.  
  
Rachel’s eyes filled with tears. “I know.”  
  
“But that doesn’t mean we can’t talk.”  
  
“I know,” Rachel said quietly. Once they reconnected, they spoke almost daily, and Rachel knew her friend was busy and had her own life and was only communicating so much because Claire was worried about her. But just the night before, Claire had told her “I don’t have to worry so much about you anymore” and they both knew it meant they wouldn’t talk to each other as much because Rachel wouldn’t need her as much.   
  
“Stay in touch, okay, ostrich?”  
  
“I will,” Rachel said. “I’m your be fri.”  
  
“Exactly. I love you, friend. You’re going to be fine.”  
  
“Yeah,” Rachel agreed softly. “Thank you.”  
  
Claire broke the hug and took a few steps back. She picked up her bag off the ground and slung it over her shoulder. She gave a tiny wave and began to step away.   
  
Rachel reached out and grabbed Claire by the arm and gently pulled the bag away. She set it on the ground and pulled Claire close and pressed her lips over Claire’s.  
  
It’d been a long time since she’d kissed Claire. They’d loved each other, but they’d never been  _in_  love with each other and they grew up experimenting with one another without any true romantic feelings rising to the surface. But Rachel loved this girl and she needed this last desperate kiss, because she was fairly certain it would be a long time before she got to see this girl again.  
  
Claire returned the kiss and they stood there, ignoring the murmurs of other people.  
  
“Why do you have to always be so goddamn cinematic?” Claire asked when they broke apart, She was crying by then and she wiped at her eyes. “You melodramatic bitch.”  
  
Rachel laughed softly and she wiped at her eyes. “This isn’t goodbye, right? You didn’t come here to do some last hurrah to try to fix me and now you’re going to just walk away from me? We’re not going to like, lose touch and just remember one another fondly? We’ll still be friends?”  
  
“You read too many maudlin books and watch too many sentimental movies. Don’t ever read any Wally Lamb.”  
  
“I read  _She’s Come Undone_ ,” Rachel admitted.  
  
“Rachel! I told you not to do that!”  
  
“Sorry.”  
  
“Did you cry?”  
  
“No,” Rachel said sullenly, in a way that clearly met yes.  
  
“You’ve been my best friend for ten years. You don’t get to drop me just because you moved to glamorous Lima, Ohio. This is just a ‘smell you later.’ This isn’t a goodbye. I love you, Rach. I’m not letting you go. I will fight this entire fucking town for you. They don’t know. I’m crazy. I’d do it. I’m holding onto you and don’t you forget it.”  
  
Rachel laughed. “Okay, friend. Smell you later.”  
  
“Smell you later.”  
  
And then Rachel watched her walk away.  
  
She turned to walk back to her car and happened to look slightly to her left. Her heart sank when she saw Quinn staring at her. She was standing there with another girl-- someone too young to be her mother, but the resemblance was still there, so Rachel just assumed it was a sister.   
  
‘Aubrey,’ some part of her mind whispered to her.   
  
Why would she know that? But she immediately knew. Aubrey.   
  
Rachel swallowed hard and walked away as quickly as she could. She was sure Quinn was going to make  _some_  kind of nasty remark. Quinn had mostly left her alone since the incident on the stairs, but now Quinn had fodder for an insult. Rachel wasn’t ashamed at all of her friendship with Claire. When, in the future, she would get into a romantic relationship where she’d have to share the details of her first time, she would be honest about Claire, the Boones and Schnapps and Third Eye Blind. But she felt vulnerable right now, and girls like Quinn Fabray seemed to be able to smell that. And even worse, exploit that.   
  
She needed to get away.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4  
  
  
  
“That’s little Rachel?”  
  
“Yeah,” Quinn affirmed to her sister as they watched Rachel swiftly walk away.  
  
“She got hot.”  
  
“Shut up.”  
  
Quinn helped her sister with her luggage and they walked to the car.  
  
\--  
  
“I can’t believe that’s little Rachel,” Aubrey commented as they sat around the living room waiting for their mother to get home. “I remember when she used to come over here and run around in the sprinklers in her underwear, the little exhibitionist. Although she’s apparently still a bit of an exhibitionist.”  
  
“Whatever,” Quinn said.  
  
“I wonder who that girl was.”  
  
“Who cares,” Quinn mumbled, but she actually did kind of care. She’d been thinking about it non-stop since she picked her sister up at the airport. Who was that girl?   
  
“Yeah, yeah, okay,” Aubrey said. “Hey, have you guys talked about how she used to come over here a lot?”  
  
“No,” Quinn said. “I don’t think she remembers.”  
  
Aubrey shook her head. “Her psycho mother must have brainwashed her or something.”  
  
“Well, don’t say that around her. She’ll go psycho on you.”  
  
“No one likes yo mama jokes, Quinn.”  
  
Quinn rolled her eyes.   
  
“So you guys aren’t friends?”  
  
Quinn glared at her. “Yeah, because all my friends flee the scene when they see me.”  
  
“You  _are_  a bitch,” Aubrey pointed out, her tone overly reasonable.   
  
Quinn crossed her arms and glared at her sister. “This coming from the woman who just left her husband  _again_ . I don’t even know why you’re here, in a few days, you’ll go back to him just like always.”  
  
“Shut up,” Aubrey growled. “You don’t know  _anything_  about adult relationships. By the time he came at me yesterday, I was already hot. I wasn’t going to put up with that fuckery one more day.”  
  
“That’s what you’re supposed to do in a  _marriage_ .”  
  
“You don’t know what a marriage is.  _You_  wouldn’t even be able to get married in most states. ”  
  
Quinn stared at her sister, stung. Her mouth dropped open and she released a weak breath. She couldn’t believe her sister just threw that in her face.   
  
“Oh shit,” Aubrey said quietly. She winced at her own cruelty. She quickly pulled Quinn into a hug. “Q, I’m so sorry. I’m so full of shit. I didn’t mean it.”  
  
Quinn swallowed hard. “You…you won’t anyone, right?”  
  
“No, no. Of course not. I’m sorry, Quinn. I don’t know why I threw that in your face. You know I say things I don’t mean when I get hot like that.”  
  
“Yeah,” Quinn said softly, still hurt. “It’s okay. Please…just don’t tell Mom and Dad.”  
  
“Of course not,” Aubrey assured. “But you know, since the divorce, Mom is a lot less of a Puritan. I bet if you told her, she’ll be okay with it.”  
  
Quinn’s eyes welled with tears. “She’s not going to be okay with it. She only let me back into the house because she was lonely. If I told her, that I’m…I’m…a…that I’m…you know…”  
  
“Gay is not a dirty word. And lesbian sounds kind of ugly, but it’s not a dirty word either. Maybe instead of lesbian, we’ll say ‘daisy.’ You can tell mom that you’re a ‘daisy.’ Daisy is a much prettier word than lesbian. And I’ll tell her that ‘daisy’ is code for lesbian.”  
  
Quinn wiped at her eyes. “She’ll throw me out,” she whispered. “She won’t ever talk to me again. She can’t ever know.”  
  
“So, what are you going to do? Marry your hulking high school boyfriend you’re not even attracted to, just so you can have a relationship with Mom?”  
  
“Yes,” Quinn whispered. It sounded much more reasonable in her head than when her sister said it.   
  
“If she kicks you out, you can live with me.”  
  
“Yeah, because you let me live with you when I needed a place last year.”  
  
Aubrey flinched. “Q, I live in New Jersey. You would have had to move, and you didn’t want that. That’s what you told me.”  
  
“Yeah, well, you said I was grown enough to make my own decisions last year, so I’m grown enough to make them now.”  
  
“It doesn’t have to be like this. You don’t have to turn into Mom. You don’t have to marry someone you don’t love and have a life you don’t want. You’re my little sister. I want you to have a life you want. I want you to know what it’s like to be in love. Rick and I may have our problems, but when Rick says my name, I know no one else in the world will ever say it that way. Or that my name would ever be as important to anyone else as it is to him. I want that for you, too.”  
  
“Everything’s finally back to normal,” Quinn said. “Mom let me come home. Finn took me back even though the baby was Puck’s. That baby was adopted and people aren’t even talking about it anymore. I’m a Cheerio again. My life is really good.  _This_  is what I want. I don’t  _want_  to be some….some… _daisy_ .”  
  
Aubrey smiled. “Take it from me. What you want in high school, is not what you want when you get to be my age. Don’t make the same mistake I did. You can be the Fabray woman who actually makes it in the world.”  
  
“You’ve made it,” Quinn refuted. “Dad thinks you’re perfect. And you love Rick.”  
  
“Quinn, I dropped out of college to get married. Most of the time, I just stay at home and cook all day. My career is volunteering. And I don’t see my husband because he works fourteen hour days. I’m twenty four and I have the same life Mom did before she went back to work. You can have something better for yourself. I love Rick, but I wish my life worked out a little differently.”  
  
“You can still have something better, too,” Quinn said softly.  
  
“I’m stuck,” Aubrey said quietly. “I don’t have a degree, I’ve never had a real job and I’m…” she sighed. “I’m  _pregnant_ .”  
  
Quinn paused. “I…I’m not really sure what to say.”  
  
“I don’t know either. I know I’m going back to him, but I just needed a few days away from looking at his stupid face. I wanted to punch it in w hen I left. I’m only about eight weeks pregnant. Do pregnancy hormones really kick in this early?”  
  
Quinn wasn’t sure what to say, so she just grabbed her sister and hugged her.   
  
Aubrey stroked her hair. “You don’t have to get stuck, too. You’re better than that.”  
  
Quinn didn’t say anything in response, but she thought her sister was wrong.  
  
\--  
  
A few days later, Quinn and her sister were finishing up some errands for their mother and they walked out into the parking lot after picking up their mother’s prescriptions from the pharmacy, only to see Rachel kicking the wheels of a blue Mini Cooper.  
  
Quinn’s car was parked two cars down and they had to pass Rachel to get back to it.  
  
Rachel was speaking on her cell phone.  
  
“Dad, I’m  _okay_ . You guys don’t have to drive back from  _Cleveland_ . It’s way too far.” She paused. “No, Dad. To be honest, I really  _don’t_  know how far it is, but this morning when you were telling me about it, it  _seemed_  far. I’ll call Triple A once we get off the phone-- thank you for our membership number. I’m sure they’ll be here soon. Please don’t worry about me.” She paused again. “Daddy,” she said gently. “Nothing is going to happen to me. Please don’t worry, I really am capable of taking care of myself. I promise you, I’ll text you when Triple A gets here and I’ll text you again when I get home. I promise, nothing bad will happen to me.” Rachel paused again. “Okay, I’ll talk to you soon.”  
  
Rachel stuck her phone back in her purse.   
  
Before Quinn could stop her, Aubrey called out to Rachel.  
  
“Hey,” Aubrey said. “Everything okay?”  
  
Rachel stared at them for a moment. “Yes,” she said politely. “Thank you. Hello, Quinn. Hello…” Rachel trailed off.  
  
“Aubrey. You probably don’t remember me.”  
  
Rachel shrugged.   
  
“Car problems, right?” Aubrey asked. “What’s wrong?”  
  
“My battery’s dead,” Rachel said softly.  
  
“You don’t need to call Triple A. We’ll give you a jump start, right, Quinn?”  
  
Quinn swallowed hard. “Sure.”  
  
Rachel looked skeptical. “You know how to do that?” she asked, addressing Quinn.  
  
“Probably not,” Aubrey interjected. “But I do. Quinn, move your car into that empty space next to Rachel.”  
  
Quinn silently followed her sister’s instructions, and by the time she moved her car and got out, her sister was already engaged in animated conversation with Rachel. Quinn envied her sister’s easy ability to talk to people, and at the moment, she specifically envied her sister’s ability to talk to  _Rachel_ . Quinn was popular, but not particularly well-liked. When Aubrey was a student at McKinley, she’d been popular and  _loved_ .  
  
Her sister popped the trunk and pulled up jumper cables that Quinn didn’t even know she  _had_  in there, despite the fact it was her car and then popped the hood of both cars. Within a few minutes, Aubrey had the batteries connected to one another and then Quinn and Rachel turned on their cars. Rachel’s car sprang to life and Rachel let out a tiny squeal.   
  
“Yay!” she cheered. She jumped out of the car and threw herself at Aubrey, pulling the much taller blonde into a hug. “Thank you!”  
  
Aubrey laughed softly. “You’re welcome,” she said. “I was going to buy Q dinner at Breadstix Why don’t you come with?”  
  
Rachel’s eyes flickered to Quinn. “No, thank you,” she said politely.  
  
“Oh, come on,” Aubrey said, “You can tell me what you’ve been doing with your life since you used to run through our sprinklers in your underwear.”  
  
Rachel looked at her in surprise. “What?”  
  
Aubrey smiled at Rachel, and the brunette was clearly disarmed. “You had to have been doing something else with your life since then, right? Join us for dinner.”  
  
“I…uh, Okay,” Rachel agreed. She stared at Aubrey, a little starry-eyed.   
  
Quinn wished she had that kind of power.   
  
\--  
  
Once they were sitting at the booth at Breadstix, Rachel seemed wary-- she kept looking at Quinn before she answered any of Aubrey’s fairly personal questions, brown eyes narrowed as if she were wondering how Quinn could use any disclosed information against her.   
  
“So,” Aubrey said cheerfully. “Who was that girl you were kissing at the airport? Girlfriend?”  
  
Rachel snorted in derision. “Hardly,” she scoffed. “She’s my best friend.”  
  
Aubrey raised an eyebrow “I don’t kiss  _my_  best friend like that.”  
  
“She’s the love of my life,” Rachel said frankly. “I would do anything for her. But she’s still just a friend, not a romantic partner. If she were my girlfriend, I wouldn’t ever deny that. I’m proud of what I have with her. Not everyone can have a friendship like that. She’s been an amazing friend to me for ten years.”  
  
“Do you have a boyfriend?”  
  
“There was a boy…” Rachel trailed off wistfully. “But it doesn’t matter now.” She smiled at Aubrey. “Do  _you_  have a boyfriend?”  
  
“No,” Aubrey said. “Worse. I have a husband.”  
  
Rachel stared at her for a moment, unable to tell if Aubrey was joking or not. But once Aubrey began to laugh, Rachel laughed, too.  
  
“It’s weird how you haven’t changed much,” Aubrey mused. “If I’d seen you around, I would have known it was you right away. You look exactly the same.”  
  
Rachel looked at her curiously. “Really?”  
  
“Well, you used to spend a lot of time at our house. Our mom was friends with one of your dads, you know.”  
  
Rachel looked surprised. “No. I didn’t.” She paused. “I don’t…I don’t remember any of that.” She looked at Quinn, clearly baffled. “You’ve never mentioned that to me,” she said softly. “Why didn’t you?”   
  
Quinn’s face flushed, embarrassed. She’d never mentioned it to Rachel because Rachel didn’t remember.  
  
When she first heard about Rachel’s return, she’d been  _overjoyed_ . Rachel wasn’t a  _staple_  exactly at her house when they were little, but they did spend a lot of time together. Her father wasn’t enthused with the idea of her going to Rachel’s house, so she’d only gone to Rachel’s house once, but he was okay with Rachel coming to theirs. He didn’t like either of Rachel’s fathers because of the gay thing, but Rachel was well-manned and polite and he seemed to like her.   
  
The day Rachel was abducted, she’d played with Rachel at the park on the swings. Rachel’s father, Michael pushed both of them on the swings while Quinn’s mother and Rachel’s other father, Ronald, stood off to the side, immersed in quiet, but intense conversation. As they swung higher, Quinn called out to her mother and Rachel called out to her other father, each of them clamoring for attention. But after a while, Quinn and her mother left.  
  
They’d happened to drive by the park again afterward to pick up Aubrey and Quinn caught sight of Rachel standing near the park’s entrance. She was alone.   
  
“There’s Rachel, can we play?”  
  
“No, baby, we’re going to pick up your sister and then we’re going home.”  
  
When Quinn and her mother spoke to the police later, they realized Rachel must have already been left alone by her fathers by the time Quinn saw Rachel standing by the entrance. Quinn recalled her mother seemed to fall apart after that-- her mother just felt so  _guilty_  and Quinn still remembered Rachel’s father dropping by unannounced to scream “I would have stopped if it’d been one of your kids, Judy!” It was just something he said in the heat of the moment, torn apart by fear and guilt, but their friendship never repaired and her mother began drinking even more after that.   
  
When Rachel came back to Lima, and looked healthy and vibrant, Quinn’s mother cried tears of relief. Quinn had been  _so_  happy about Rachel’s return as well and she’d looked around all summer for Rachel, hoping to run into her, but she never did. Then on the first day of school, she actually got to talk to Rachel and realized Rachel didn’t remember her.  
  
But seeing Rachel in the flesh brought up all feelings she didn’t even know she had-- like she remembered what her mother had been like before Rachel’s disappearance and how her mother was changed by it. And how much she’d missed the way her mother was before. And it also stirred up all feelings inside her for Rachel that she didn’t want to acknowledge.   
  
She knew from a young age that she was gay. She distinctly remembered a day in pre-K when she pretended to be sad so Rachel would hold her hand. But there was never really anyone around her that stirred up any real romantic heat in her. She’d almost convinced herself that she was asexual, but then she saw a picture of Eliza Dushku  _really_  scantily clad, and she knew or a fact she wasn’t asexual   
  
Seeing Rachel for the first time in years provoked all kinds of feelings in her. It was the first time a person she could see in the flesh inspired those feelings in her, and it scared her. So she reacted accordingly. But she hadn’t meant to be so awful to Rachel-- it just kind of happened. She got mean, and it just ran away from her. She hadn’t meant for it to go so far, but once she started to be mean, she just couldn’t stop herself-- she even got worse.   
  
\--  
  
They moved onto lighter topics of discussion and they were talking even after they’d finished eating and the plates were cleared away. Mostly, it was Rachel and Aubrey who spoke-- Rachel seemed to forget Quinn was even there and so Quinn found out more about Rachel in one hour than in the three months since school started.  
  
They got out to the parking lot where Rachel’s car needed another jump-start. Rachel promised she’d get the battery replaced as soon as possible.   
  
“Hey,” Aubrey said, calling out to Rachel before they went their separate ways. “Quinn and I are going to go shopping tomorrow, why don’t you come with us?”  
  
“No, thanks,” Rachel said immediately, her eyes flickering to Quinn.  
  
“Come on,” Aubrey cajoled. “I’ll buy you a hot pretzel. You used to really love this. Do you still like them?”  
  
“I try not to indulge too much,” Rachel muttered, patting her belly.  
  
Aubrey smiled. “Everything in moderation. Come out with us.”  
  
Rachel was clearly charmed, because she agreed without much of a fight.  
  
\--  
  
Quinn was sullen and jealous as she drove home with her sister. “What, are you trying to seduce her?”  
  
Aubrey snorted. “Please. She’s a child. I know you like her. You used to con her into playing games you knew she’d lose and you’d make her let you kiss her on the nose as so-called punishment.”  
  
Quinn blushed furiously. She’d forgotten about that until now.  
  
“Be nice to her,” Aubrey chided gently. “I don’t want my little sister to be a bully. Bullies suck and end up sad ass gas station monkeys. You don’t have to like her, but there’s no reason to go after her or make nasty comments. I saw the way she looked at you. You must have been giving her hell. I know how you can get. If you don’t like or she doesn’t interest you anymore, just ignore her. But don’t bully her. That just makes you an asshole.  
  
“I don’t dislike her,” Quinn said quietly.   
  
“Then stop being a jerk to her. She wouldn’t have looked at you that way if you’d been  _nice_  to her. She wouldn’t have even looked at you that way if you just ignored her. You must have done some shit to her. Just stop and maybe you guys can be friends again. You obviously still have the hots for her. You were looking down her shirt the whole time.”  
  
“I was not!”  
  
“You were,” Aubrey said with a laugh. “But she doesn’t have much to look at it, so it’s okay.”  
  
“Her breasts are nice!” Quinn cried, feeling the need to defend Rachel’s honor from Aubrey’s mockery.  
  
“Ha!” Aubrey cackled, pointing at Quinn. “See! Just be nice to her and I’m sure you guys will be friends.”  
  
Quinn smiled sadly. “I think it’s too late. She  _really_  doesn’t like me.”  
  
“Well, she did agree to hang out tomorrow, didn’t she?”  
  
“Yeah…”  
  
“Just stop being an asshole, Quinn. It’s really not that hard.”  
  
“Oh, really? How come you still are?” Quinn snarked back, but she knew her sister had a point.   
  
In the past few weeks since she last Slushied Rachel, she’d kept her distance from the brunette. She truly never intended to make Rachel trip on the stairs-- the terror and horror she felt hearing Rachel shriek and then tumble down those steps was not something she wanted to re-experience.   
  
Quinn didn’t know what it was inside her that kept poking at Rachel. But she did it, even if she was trying not to do it anymore. Rachel wasn’t an easy target-- she was moody and prone to explode when pushed too far. The bullying and Slushieing usually didn’t seem to bother her, so there wasn’t much satisfaction for anyone to do it. But sometimes Rachel did explode and there was a sick part of Quinn that  _liked_  to see that passion and ire written all over Rachel’s painfully expressive face. Rachel could go from blankly neutral and expressionless to practically trembling with anger in a nanosecond. But Quinn knew there were other ways to inspire emotions in people without being horrible to them.  
  
There were times Rachel looked at her with bewilderment and resentment. There was always obvious distrust.   
  
At first, it was easy to deal with. When Rachel first matriculated into McKinley, she was stony-faced and eyed everyone with resentment. When she spread the rumor about Rachel’s mother, it was more out of hating Rachel’s mother than wanting to hurt Rachel. She’d felt awful when she saw how upset Rachel looked that day-- for days after that, actually. She’d promised herself she’d be nicer to Rachel after that, but she just seemed incapable of doing it. But then Rachel made friends, and granted they weren’t really people Quinn paid much attention to, but Quinn began to see Rachel interacting differently with people. She’d see Rachel laughing and dancing around the halls with Mike, or pushing Artie in his wheelchair, giggling the whole time or linking arms with Kurt, Mercedes or Tina. She saw Rachel looking at people with genuine affection and Quinn realized she kind of wanted to be on the receiving end of that, like back when they were little.  
  
But craving someone’s affection like that was frightening and so Quinn still found herself being nasty to Rachel.  
  
It was only after she caused Rachel to fall down the stairs that Quinn knew she was out of control and needed to reign herself in.  
  
But now it was too late. Rachel didn’t seem to hate her so much as Rachel seemed wary of her. They probably didn’t even have a shot at friendship.   
  
\--  
  
They did go shopping the next day. Quinn and her sister picked Rachel up at her house and Quinn played chauffer while Aubrey and Rachel engaged in an animated discussion about  _Phantom of the Opera_ .  
  
Rachel generally ignored Quinn for most of the day and Quinn envied the way Rachel seemed to have an instant affinity toward Aubrey. But then again her sister had always been the one to build instant camaraderie with people.   
  
They were passing a jewelry store in the mall when Rachel stopped to look at an item set in the display window. She peered down, looking closely at it. It was a delicate gold star with Swarovski crystals. She touched her fingers to the glass. “My mom would like that,” she commented. She froze for a moment, seeming to struggle to collect herself. “She would have liked that,” she corrected, standing up straight.  
  
Quinn felt terrible and her face flushed as she remembered the rumor she passed around the school about Rachel’s mother. It just kind of happened. Granted she’d resented Rachel’s mother for taking Rachel, but Santana had been harassing her about Rachel, demanding to know what Rachel said when they’d cleaned out the pool per Sylvester’s orders the day before. Quinn said all that stuff partly under duress, and partly because once she got someone’s attention, she couldn’t help but try to claim it for as long as possible and the way Santana’s eyes got bigger with every lie just pushed Quinn into being more fantastical. And she also really hated Rachel’s mother.  
  
Rachel looked like she was ready to cry, but fighting very hard not to. Quinn was uncomfortable and had no idea how they were going to handle this. For the most part, the day had gone pretty smoothly, but only because Aubrey was a buffer. But not even Aubrey could make this moment less awkward.   
  
Aubrey slung one arm around Quinn’s shoulders, and one arm around Rachel’s and gently led them away. “I really want a pretzel,” she declared. “And possibly one of those pretzel dogs. Come on,” she said. “I’ll buy both you squirts a soft pretzel. I mean, since I promised and all.”  
  
“I hate it when you call me that,” Quinn whined, reverting back to when she was a little kid. She happened to make eye contact with Rachel who looked amused.  
  
Rachel gave her a small smile and Quinn smiled back.  
  
“Yeah,” Rachel said. “It’s very rude to be so disparaging.”  
  
“You’re inferring the disparagement,” Aubrey said with a grin.  
  
“That’s because you implied it,” Rachel shot back.  
  
“Hey,” Aubrey said. “I’ve already got an annoying little sister. Don’t try to usurp her role. She’ll always be way more annoying than you.”  
  
Rachel laughed and Quinn elbowed Aubrey in the side and shot her sister a  _look_ , but the truth was, she was grateful for her sister’s ability to smooth things over.  
  
\--  
  
They were leaving the mall for the day when Aubrey invited Rachel over for dinner.  
  
“Our mom would love to see you again,” Aubrey said. “And she’s a great cook.”  
  
“That’s so kind of you,” Rachel said. “But really, I shouldn’t.” She was looking at Quinn when she said that.  
  
“Oh, come on,” Aubrey said. “You used to spend a lot of time at our house when you were little. She’ll want to see you.”  
  
“I….I did?” Rachel asked. She bit her lower lip contemplatively. “I really don’t remember that.” She looked at Quinn. “Why didn’t you ever tell me this?” she sounded a little accusing, but mostly she just sounded curious.  
  
Quinn ducked her head. “I never really had a chance to.”  
  
Rachel looked at Quinn curiously. “Were we friends?”  
  
Quinn paused. Rachel looked curious. “We were,” she admitted softly. “You were over at our house a lot.”  
  
Rachel nodded.”Oh,” she said softly.  
  
“Quinn gave you that scar on your forehead, you know,” Aubrey informed.  
  
Rachel stared at Quinn. “ _You_  did?”  
  
“It was an accident!” Quinn exclaimed in outrage.  
  
“My mom said I banged into the coffee table when I was learning how to walk,” Rachel said quietly, staring down at her shoes. She was clearly thrown.   
  
“No,” Aubrey said bluntly. “On your third birthday, you two geniuses thought if you climbed a tree, you could grab stars out of the sky. You both fell out, but you were the one who smashed her face into a chain link fence,” Aubrey told Rachel. “Quinn dropped you because she was trying to pick you up to get you a little higher up.” She rolled her eyes at both of them. “You’re lucky you’re not dead or crippled.”  
  
Rachel smiled at Quinn wryly. “So you’ve attempted to maim me more than once. I hope you won’t turn it into a pattern.”  
  
Quinn chuckled self-deprecatingly. “I’ll make my best effort not to,” she said softly.   
  
Rachel gave her a more genuine smile and Quinn couldn’t help but smile back. She’d never been on the receiving end of one of those dazzling, genuine smiles but she’d seen them directed at other people and also saw how the recipients always worked overtime to elicit another one. Quinn totally understood that now because she desperately wanted to say something clever to get another one of those smile directed at her.   
  
“Do you remember a lot from when you were little? Before you were with your mom?” Aubrey asked gently.  
  
Rachel’s forehead furrowed. “No,” she said quietly.”I can’t remember anything.” She looked at Quinn. “I kind of remembered you though, but I don’t know why.” She looked at Aubrey. “I kind of remembered you, too. I knew you were her sister when I saw you at the airport. But I don’t know why I remembered.”   
  
Rachel looked frustrated and lost and Quinn knew this whole conversation was a bad idea.  
  
“You were little,” Aubrey said softly. “I don’t remember anything from when I was four.”  
  
“I guess,” Rachel said, eyes flickering away. “You really think your mom would be okay with me coming to dinner? What about your dad?”  
  
“He’s not around anymore,” Quinn said softly.   
  
Rachel regarded Quinn for a moment and then nodded. “Okay,” Rachel said quietly. “Dinner sounds great. My fathers are terrible cooks. We’re firmly committed to take-out.”  
  
\--  
  
Rachel trailed behind Quinn and Aubrey as they entered their home and walked into living room where their mother was reading a magazine.  
  
“Hey mom,” Aubrey said. “Look what followed us home from the mall. Can we keep her?” She grinned and gestured toward Rachel.  
  
Judy’s smile froze and the magazine she set in her lap when her daughters came into the room fell to the floor. She made no gesture to pick it up. Her eyes were wide. “Rachel?” she asked softly. She seemed frozen for a moment and then she stood up and quickly closed the gap of space between them. She pulled the brunette into a hug.   
  
Rachel seemed frozen, and it took her a few moments for her to raise her arms up to return the hug.  
  
Hesitantly, Judy’s hand drifted into Rachel’s hair, and she petted it gently before she tightened her hold on Rachel, squeezing for a moment before pulling back. She cupped Rachel’s cheeks. She gazed into Rachel’s face. “You’re so grown up,” Judy said with a soft laugh.  
  
Rachel chuckled gently. “It was sort of compulsory.”  
  
Judy gently thumbed the scar on Rachel’s forehead. “This scar,” she sighed, clucking her tongue. “Your father and I got into such a fight about that. I  _told_ him to put Vitamin E into it, and he insisted it wouldn’t scar.”  
  
Rachel chuckled. “It’s not that bad.”   
  
Judy laughed, her eyes a little teary. “How are you, sweetheart?”  
  
Rachel smiled. “Very well, and you?”  
  
Judy smiled. “Very well,” she said with a nod. Her eyes became wide. “I haven’t started dinner yet,” she said fretfully. “I was just going to take leftovers out and microwave it for the girls,” she said. “But we can’t have that for you! What do you like to eat?”  
  
“It’s nice how you prefer not to make an effort for your children, Mom,” Aubrey said dryly. “It makes our guests feel loved.”  
  
Judy turned to look at Aubrey and narrowed her eyes, one finger wagging at her scoldingly.   
  
“I’ll eat anything, ma’am” Rachel said shyly.   
  
“She’s vegan, Mom,” Aubrey informed. “No meat, no dairy, no animal products whatsoever.”  
  
“I can eat them,” Rachel said quickly. “It’s not a problem.”  
  
“Are you still allergic to strawberries?” Judy asked softly.  
  
Rachel blinked, surprised. “Not anymore,” she said. “My mom said I--” she cut herself off. “I’m not allergic to anything. I grew out of that allergy. I can eat anything. Please don’t go out of your way. I don’t want to impose any further.”  
  
“It’s not an imposition,” Judy said. “Just give me some time to look through one of my cookbooks, sweetheart”  
  
“But--”  
  
Aubrey took Rachel by the arm. “Come on, no one argues with my mom when it comes to stuff in the kitchen.”  
  
Rachel cast one last look at Judy, but allowed herself to be pulled along by Aubrey. Quinn trailed after her sister and Rachel as her sister playfully scolded Rachel for even trying to tell their mother what to do in the kitchen.  
  
They were passing the door to Aubrey’s former bedroom when Aubrey’s phone rang, the sound of Madonna’s ‘Ray of Light’ obnoxiously breaking the relative silence of the hallway.  
  
“I should get this,” Aubrey muttered, walking into her room and shutting it.  
  
Rachel and Quinn were left staring at one another for a moment.   
  
“That’s her husband,” Quinn explained, feeling the need to defend her sister’s lack of manners. “They’re having some problems.”  
  
“Oh,” Rachel said. She shifted uncomfortably.   
  
“My room is down here,” Quinn said, walking toward it. “Come on.”  
  
“Okay,” Rachel said.  
  
\--  
  
Quinn turned on the TV once she got inside her room. She sat down on her bed while Rachel sat in a chair at the desk. Quinn bit her lip, feeling uncomfortable and self-conscious having Rachel in her room. Rachel was studiously staring at the screen, but Quinn still felt self-conscious about Rachel seeing her room. Her room was a glimpse into who she was as a person, and though it wasn’t decorated exactly the way she liked it because she still considered it her father’s house even if her father was no longer living in it; it was still a truer glimpse into who she was as a person than she liked to give most people.   
  
They were quiet for approximately ten minutes when Rachel spoke.  
  
“Do you really think your mother won’t care about…” Rachel trailed off and bit her lower lip. “I don’t want to impose. Maybe I should just leave. She’s probably still looking through cookbooks.”  
  
“My mom  _likes_  to cook. She likes to try out new stuff. And she meant it. We really don’t eat that much meat since my dad left. And she’s lactose intolerant so we don’t eat much dairy anyway. Don’t worry about it,” Quinn said. “She’d be upset if you left. She really is glad you’re here.”  
  
It was, frankly, the most emotion her mother demonstrated in a long while. The last time Quinn could remember her mother demonstrating that much emotion, she was in labor and her mother was begging her not to give the baby away.  
  
“Oh,” Rachel said softly. A part of Rachel was honestly very touched by how kind Quinn’s mother was toward her-- it’d been a long time since she felt any kind of maternal affection, and to be on the receiving end of it was…strangely exhilarating. But her mother was never as solicitous as Quinn’s mother-- her mother had been much bossier.  
  
“Um, do you remember my room at all?” Quinn asked hesitantly.  
  
“No,” Rachel said quietly. She glanced around. “Uh, it’s changed since we were four, hasn’t it?”  
  
Quinn blushed. “Oh, right. Yeah.”  
  
“Sorry,” Rachel said softly, more out of habit than anything else. She was accustomed to apologizing for not remembering now.   
  
“It’s not really your fault,” Quinn pointed out.  
  
Rachel didn’t respond, but continued to watch the TV.   
  
It was silent for another twenty minutes when there was an abrupt knock on the door before it opened. Aubrey strolled into the bedroom and flopped onto her back on Quinn’s bed.   
  
“So I’m going home tomorrow,” she announced.   
  
Quinn raised an eyebrow. “Does that mean you’re going to tell Mom you’re pregnant?”  
  
Aubrey made a face. “I would, but you know my policy against making Mom…happy.”  
  
Quinn laughed. “And  _I’m_  the black sheep.”  
  
“What kind of family do you have that  _you’re_  the black sheep?” Rachel asked  
  
Aubrey and Quinn each looked at her.   
  
“She’s not,” Aubrey said. “She’s just the one with the lowest self-esteem.”  
  
Rachel’s smile was wry. “Someone’s needs to be.”  
  
Quinn laughed nervously.  
  
“I know she seems like a bitch, and she is. But Quinn really isn’t that bad,” Aubrey said.  
  
Rachel looked at Quinn. “I’ll take your word for it,” she told Aubrey dryly. But she looked at Quinn and smiled.   
  
Quinn smiled back, but looked away quickly. Quinn bit her lip. She could look Rachel dead in the eye twelve hours after starting a rumor that Rachel disclosed her mother molested her in a hallway full of people, but she couldn’t really look at Rachel when it was like this.   
  
Not long after that, Judy called them down to a dinner of salad, lentil soup and bread.  
  
Rachel was effusive and grateful over the meal, though Judy apologized for its simplicity.   
  
“Honestly, my fathers are terrible cooks. I’m teaching them how not to burn a pot of water. This has been so…great, thank you. I--I really appreciate it.”  
  
Judy smiled. “Ronald was always a terrible cook.”  
  
Rachel looked at her eagerly. “You know my dad well?”  
  
“I did,” Judy said hesitantly. “He and I were very close growing up. Our mothers were friends as well, and so he and I have always known each other. But we haven’t been very close lately. As you might imagine, it was very hard for him since I had a daughter so close to your age. And you and Quinn were so close when you were small…”  
  
Rachel nodded. “Oh.”  
  
It became quiet at the table as they ate in a silence which wasn’t necessarily comfortable.   
  
Finally, Aubrey spoke.  
  
“Hey Mom?”  
  
“Yes, Aubrey?” Judy sounded a little wary, as accustomed as she was to her older daughter’s frequently wild pronouncements.   
  
“I’m pregnant,” Aubrey said brightly.  
  
\--  
  
“Wow,” Rachel whispered to Quinn when they made their great escape back to Quinn’s bedroom while Aubrey spoke with Judy. “Your sister is a little…unusual. Are you sure  _you’re_  the black sheep?”  
  
Quinn made a face. “Don’t let her fool you. She’s Little Miss Perfect.”  
  
“She doesn’t seem that perfect, she just seems nice,” Rachel said softly. “I don’t know what it’s like to compare oneself to siblings, but my best friend--Claire, she has three of them, and I grew up with them as if they were my own siblings. It’s always seemed both fruitless and self-defeating to compare.”  
  
“Well, it’s not me doing the comparing,” Quinn said testily. “It’s my parents. And everyone else.”  
  
“I know I don’t know your mother, but she doesn’t seem like she’s comparing you two. And well, you seem like every parent’s dream.” Rachel paused. “On paper at least. I personally find you fairly unpleasant on occasion,” she said bluntly. “But your mother really doesn’t seem like she’s comparing you two that much.”  
  
“Yeah, well. She’s not  _your_  mother.”  
  
“I realize that,” Rachel said evenly.   
  
Quinn winced. “I’m sorry, that came out wrong.”  
  
“I know what you meant. And I know you didn’t mean it that way.”  
  
“Yeah,” Quinn said softly. She bit her lower lip. “Uh…” she cleared her throat. She knew she owed Rachel an apology for a myriad of things. But she just couldn’t bring herself to apologize right now. She could, however, try to extend an olive branch. “Brittany, Santana and I are going to hang out tomorrow. Do you want to join us?”  
  
Rachel paused for a long moment. “Well… Mike, Tina, Kurt, Artie, Mercedes and I were going to hang out and apparently things have been awkward between Mike and Brittany since they broke up last year. So I don’t think it would be appropriate to…merge.”  
  
Quinn fought a smile. The awkwardness was all in Mike’s head, because Brittany could barely remember he’d dumped her for Tina. But she was also a little disappointed that Rachel declined to hang out. “Oh.”  
  
“Maybe the day after tomorrow?” Rachel asked quietly.   
  
Quinn fought the big smile that threatened to overtake her face. “Uh. Yeah, sure. Whatever. Give me your number. I’ll call you.” Quinn grabbed her phone, unwilling to believe it could actually be so easy to make peace with Rachel.   
  
Rachel hesitated for a moment. “You’re not going to write my number in truck stop restrooms with written exhortations about calling me if one is in dire need of sexual favors?”  
  
“Maybe just the bathrooms at school.”  
  
Rachel stared at her.  
  
“No, I won’t do anything like that.  _God_ ,” Quinn griped, but she did feel awful Rachel would even need to ask.  
  
Rachel looked at her contemplatively, biting down on her lower lip before reciting her number.  
  
\--  
  
It was one of the more difficult calls Quinn ever made when she called Rachel to ask her to hang out.  
  
“Hello, Quinn,” Rachel greeted, her voice pleasant, but still distant.   
  
“Hi, Rachel.”  
  
\--  
  
They did indeed, meet two days later.  
  
They greeted each other awkwardly when they met at the movie theatre.   
  
“Hello, Quinn.”  
  
“Hi, Rachel.”  
  
\--  
  



	5. Chapter 5

  
Quinn was amused when Rachel fell asleep halfway through the movie. She’d glanced at Rachel out of the corner of her eye and saw Rachel curled up away from her, knees pulled to her chest with her head pressed against the back of the seat. She was breathing loud enough that Quinn could hear, but not so loud it was disruptive. Quinn contemplated waking Rachel, but Rachel always looked like she didn’t get much sleep and so Quinn decided to just let Rachel rest.   
  
Half an hour later, Rachel was still asleep, but this time, she’d shifted positions and was now resting her forehead against Quinn’s arm. Quinn swallowed hard, trying very hard not to move.    
  
It worked for a while until Quinn inconveniently sneezed.   
  
Startled, Rachel snapped to attention, looking around to take in her surroundings. When she caught sight of Quinn, she ducked her head. ‘Sorry,’ she mouthed.   
  
Quinn shrugged and smiled. Rachel turned her attention back to the movie.    
  
\--   
  
“I didn’t understand anything in that movie,” Rachel complained. “What happened to the lead actress?”   
  
“That’s what happens when you fall asleep for most of the movie. She died.”   
  
Rachel blushed, her cheeks turning bright pink. “It was not a well-made movie.”   
  
“Yeah, sure, blame the movie,” Quinn snorted.   
  
“I will. The dialogue was ludicrous and the acting was atrocious. It looked like some college student’s midterm exam.”   
  
“Wow, not even a final, huh?”   
  
“An assignment turned in for a final implies a basic understanding of editing software which this film did not demonstrate.”   
  
Quinn truly wanted to laugh, but she managed to restrain herself. “I’d like to see you do better,” she teased.   
  
Rachel raised an eyebrow. “Don’t worry, you will.”   
  
Quinn gave her a lopsided smile. “I’ll be waiting.”    
  
They walked to their cars in silence. They reached Rachel’s car first.    
  
“Okay,” Rachel said. “See you later.”   
  
“Yeah,” Quinn said. “Later.” She moved to leave, but was stopped by Rachel putting a hand on her shoulder.    
  
“Quinn?” Rachel asked timidly.   
  
Quinn paused. “Yeah?”   
  
“This was very nice and all, but if this is part of some nefarious plan you’re hatching--”   
  
“I’m not planning anything,” Quinn said through gritted teeth.   
  
Rachel gazed at her and Quinn felt very naked.    
  
“Are you sure you don’t want to be an actress?” Rachel asked finally. “I can’t get a read on you at all. You’re very inscrutable. My mother would have been very envious of your ability to keep a poker face. And also of your ability to be believable. She was a phenomenal singer, but a failed actress.”   
  
“I’m not planning anything,” Quinn said quietly.   
  
“So this is the real you, huh?” Rachel asked softly.   
  
Quinn wasn’t sure how to respond.   
  
Rachel bit the inside of her left cheek. She was silent for a moment before she nodded. “All right,” she said. “We should hang out some other time, too, then. Despite the fact that your taste in movies is very questionable, I think we should be able to sustain spending time with one another outside of school and school-sanctioned activities without killing each other.”   
  
“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Quinn said dryly.    
  
Rachel gave her a dazzling smile. “When my mother died, people said it was going to be one day at a time. I’m going to assume it will be applicable to us as well.”   
  
“You’re kind of tactless,” Quinn informed her, because the implication that a friendship with her would require the day-to-day fortitude of coping with the sudden death of a parent kind of stung.    
  
Rachel smiled. “So are you. Maybe that bodes well for us.”   
  
“Maybe,” Quinn agreed.    
  
“See you later, friend.”   
  
Rachel’s tone was light and teasing, and Quinn wondered if Rachel was mocking her with the ‘friend’ bit, but she played it safe by assuming Rachel was sincere.   
  
“See you later, Rachel.”  

\---

Rachel was different, but somehow exactly what Quinn expected her to be. They hung out a few more times during Winter Break, but Rachel still seemed wary of her when school resumed. It kind of stung because Quinn was accustomed to people giving her what she wanted and what she wanted was for Rachel not to eye her with quite so much distrust. But Aubrey had put it succinctly when Quinn had complained to her about the situation the night before school resumed.  
  
“She grew up with a kidnapper. She probably has trust issues up the fucking yin yang,” Aubrey said bluntly. “And you know I think the yin yang is exit only.”  
  
Quinn gagged at her sister’s coarse imagery and language. Her sister could get away with speaking like that because she pretty much did everything the way their father mapped out. But Quinn still found it occasionally off-putting.   
  
“You’re disgusting,” Quinn griped.  
  
“Mellow out before you give yourself a stroke, Q.”  
  
\--  
  
On the first day of school after winter break, Quinn was standing at her locker with Brittany and Santana when she spotted Rachel walking down the hallway with Kurt after lunch.   
  
“Hey,” Quinn called out to them as they passed.   
  
Rachel tensed slightly and put her arm around Kurt’s waist protectively and pulled Kurt so that they changed positions, so that he was the one further away from the Cheerios.   
  
“Hello,” Rachel said evenly. Her eyes flickered to the Slushie cup in Quinn’s hand.  
  
Quinn followed Rachel’s gaze to the cup in her hand and flushed. “It’s not Slushie. It’s water,” she muttered. “And I wasn’t going to throw it.”  
  
“Okay,” Rachel said. “See you in class.”  
  
Quinn watched Rachel and Kurt walk away.  
  
“Ha!” Santana exploded in laughter.   
  
Brittany laughed softly and Brittany and Santana exchanged amused glances at Quinn’s expense.   
  
“Shut it,” Quinn muttered.   
  
“I don’t know why you’d want to hang out with her over us,” Santana said  
  
“She doesn’t seem to like you that much,” Brittany agreed. “You told us you were friends now and we should be nicer to her. But I’m pretty sure she still hates you.”  
  
“She doesn’t hate me.”  
  
“I think she hates you,” Santana said cheerfully. “She ran away from you. And also, you kind of suck.”  
  
“I don’t hate her,” Rachel said, interrupting the conversation. “I wasn’t running and she doesn’t suck.” She’d clearly doubled-back on her own because Kurt was no longer with her. She squeezed her way past Santana and Brittany, bumping them slightly out of the way.  
  
Santana’s eyes darkened and she moved as if to grab Rachel, but Brittany grabbed Santana’s hand, pulled the brunette close and whispered in her ear. A slow grin crossed Santana’s lips and the two cheerleaders walked off without another word.  
  
Rachel leaned up against the locker, gazing intently at Quinn. “I think I hurt your feelings a few minutes ago,” she declared. She tilted her head. “Did I?”  
  
Quinn bit her lower lip. “A little,” she admitted. “I told you I wouldn’t do anything like that to you.”  
  
“Yes, but you didn’t make the same promise about my friends. Your friend Karofsky just threw Kurt into the dumpster this morning.”  
  
“Karofsky is  _not_  my friend!” Quinn protested.  
  
Rachel raised an eyebrow. “I thought the social hierarchy at this school dictated that the football players and cheerleaders were automatically friends.”  
  
“He’s not my friend.”  
  
Rachel nodded, seeming to accept that. “I’m sorry I hurt your feelings by being so presumptuous. I don’t like hurting my friends. It was unintentional and I apologize, Quinn.”  
  
“It’s okay,” Quinn said softly. She pulled a book out of her locker and shut it. “I get it.”  
  
Rachel gently grabbed the book in Quinn’s hand. “No,” Rachel said. “It really wasn’t okay. You’ve been very nice to me lately, which is exactly what you promised to be and I haven’t met you halfway. I’m very sorry for that. Can I walk you to class since we share it anyway?”  
  
Quinn smiled. “Sure. Thanks.”  
  
\--  
  
When school first started in September, Rachel was polite, but distant with  _everyone_. Her expression was always neutral and blank. It was impossible to get a feel for how she was feeling or what she was thinking by looking at her. She didn’t talk to anyone, didn’t offer any input in any of her classes. She barely even spoke in glee, though Mr. Schuester just naturally gave her all the solos.   
  
As she started to make friends-- primarily with Mike, Tina, Artie, Mercedes and Kurt, she could be seen talking animatedly and laughing with her friends, but with her friends only. In class, she still kept on with the blank façade-- she didn’t speak in class unless spoken to and she didn’t engage with the other students.   
  
When Quinn began spending time with Rachel, one-on-one, Rachel was unquestionably wary, but the more time Quinn spent with her, the more Rachel’s natural personality seemed to emerge.  
  
At first, Rachel was quiet when they hung out and so their time together tended to focus around activities like homework, studying or watching TV and movies. But Rachel promised to meet her halfway, and Rachel actually started to do that. She became comfortable with Quinn and the blonde realized…the girl.did.not.shut.up. She was a complete motormouth. It was simultaneously annoying and comforting. It was like Rachel was making up for lost time, like she had a quota of words and if she didn’t use it, she’d lose it. She’d never met anyone who could talk as much or as quickly as Rachel could-- she’d once drawn a caricature of Rachel in the middle of their Spanish class of Rachel talking a mile a minute with steam coming out of her ears from the pressure of it all. Rachel was unoffended, shrugged her shoulders and smiled brightly when Quinn showed it to her.  
  
But despite the fact it was a little annoying, it was also comforting because Quinn could remember Rachel talking just as much when they were little. It made her feel like they were actually friends and not just playing at it.   
  
\--  
  
A few weeks after school resumed from winter break, their history teacher announced a project to be completed in pairs. Quinn sat on the other side of the classroom from Rachel and when the announcement was made, Rachel turned toward Quinn to catch the blonde’s eye.  
  
Rachel raised an eyebrow and looked at Quinn expectantly. Quinn smiled and nodded. When it was time to rearrange seats, Rachel gestured for Quinn to come to her and Quinn nodded in acquiescence.   
  
“Hi,” Quinn said, sliding into the seat next to Rachel.   
  
“Hi,” Rachel greeted.   
  
They worked on the assignment through the rest of class, but it was meant to be completed over several weeks.  
  
“Do you want to come over tonight to work on it?” Rachel asked Quinn with a wide smile. “Maybe we can have dinner with my dads.”  
  
Quinn paused. It was the first time she’d been invited to Rachel’s house. “Yeah,” she said. “Sure. That would be great.”  
  
“Maybe you can just come home with me after glee.”  
  
Quinn nodded and smiled. “Perfect.”  
  
\--  
  
The last time Quinn was in Rachel’s room, they were four and there were alphabet letters and numbers on the walls. They were unsurprisingly gone, but posters from Broadway shows still adorned the walls.   
  
Quinn sat down awkwardly in a chair at Rachel’s desk, and picked up the framed photograph of Rachel with her friend Claire and another boy. Rachel took a seat on the bed.   
  
“Who’s the guy?”  
  
“My ex-boyfriend, Ray,” Rachel said. “It turned out we were better off as friends. He reminds me a bit of your boyfriend, actually.”  
  
Quinn chuckled. “Is Ray dumb as a rock, too?”  
  
Rachel grinned. “He’s graduating this year and he’s going to go to Harvard. And not with family money. So no, he’s not dumb as a rock. Ray is just very sweet like your boyfriend.”  
  
“He’s tall like Finn. You like them tall, huh?” Quinn teased.  
  
Rachel smiled. “I don’t discriminate.”  
  
“Good to know,” Quinn smiled. She glanced at a framed picture on Rachel’s nightstand. “Is that your mom?” she asked quietly.  
  
Rachel flinched and grabbed the photograph and held it close to her chest, as if someone were going to take it away from her. But after a moment she took a deep breath and passed it to Quinn. “Yes,” she said quietly. “Sorry. I was so rude just now. I’m not supposed to have it out. My dads said they don’t want any photos of her displayed in their house, even if it’s in my room. I usually keep it in my drawer, but I kind of missed her last night,” Rachel said softly, dark eyes shyly casting downward.   
  
Quinn took it and stared down at it. In the photo, Rachel’s mom was standing behind Rachel with her arms around Rachel’s waist. They looked happy.  
  
“What was she like?”  
  
Rachel torso moved back and she looked at Quinn warily for a moment before responded. “She was great,” she said quietly. “I know she did a terrible thing, but she was a great mom. Sh-she had some problems,” she admitted. “She wasn’t perfect. But I know she loved me.” She took a deep shuddering breath. “My mother was my best friend.”  
  
“How did she die?” Quinn asked gently. “I know she’s gone, but I don’t know how she…”  
  
“Car accident,” Rachel said quickly.   
  
Quinn looked at her, concerned. “Were you with her when it happened? Were you hurt?”  
  
Rachel paused. “No,” she said. “She didn’t suffer. It happened very quickly.”  
  
Quinn nodded. She swallowed hard. “I’m, um…I’m so sorry about what I said about your mom,” she said quietly.  
  
Rachel looked at her, her eyes welling with tears as she thought about how terrible she felt when she heard all those people saying such horrible things about her mother. “Why did you?”  
  
Quinn shrugged. “San was on me about giving her the dirt on you and I just…I say things sometimes and then I end up regretting them.”  
  
“She never abused me,” Rachel said quietly. “She protected me.  _Always_. She always chose  _me_.”  
  
“Okay,” Quinn said softly.  
  
“She was a  _good_  mom. She would have done anything for me. “  
  
Quinn thought Rachel was likely just looking at the silver-lined aspects of her mother, because ultimately, Rachel’s mother was still a kidnapper who stole Rachel and took her from where she really belonged. The fact that she was a decent parent was besides the point in Quinn’s eyes. But she chose not to voice her opinion.  
  
“I’m glad she was good to you, Rachel,” Quinn said softly, choosing to focus on the good.  
  
It was definitely the right choice because Rachel beamed at her, showing off two rows of blindingly white teeth that stirred up a range of things inside her, but mostly, having that smile directed at her made her heart feel full in ways she hadn’t felt in a really long time.  
  
\--  
  
They were working on the assignment while they each sat on the bed when Rachel’s phone rang with a ‘You’re My Best Friend’ ringtone. Instantly, Rachel’s face brightened and she reached for her phone only to pull her hand away.  
  
“You can answer it,” Quinn said quietly.   
  
She’d caught a glimpse of the caller ID on Rachel’s iPhone and it was Rachel’s friend, Claire.  
  
Rachel shook her head. “It’s rude to take calls. If it’s important, she’ll leave a message. If it’s not she’ll just wait for me to call her back. We just talked a few days ago, so it can’t be that important.”  
  
Quinn smiled. “You sure?”  
  
Rachel held up her now silent phone. “Too late now,” she said with a smile.   
  
\--  
  
Rachel was  _not_  kidding when she said her fathers were firmly committed to take-out. Rachel’s fathers came home at the same time, and there was apparently some kind of miscommunication, because they’d  _each_  stopped to pick up dinner. Quinn caught a glimpse of the Berrys’ refrigerator, and it was laden with condiments, beverages and pre-washed, pre-cut fruits but barely anything else.   
  
Quinn had to admit she felt a little trepidation to see Rachel’s fathers. She’d seen them around town over the years, but they’d always pointedly ignored her.   
  
Rachel smiled at her. “I bet my dads will be glad to see you.”  
  
Quinn smiled back, but she thought ‘don’t count on it.’  
  
They walked down the stairs together.  
  
“I invited someone over for dinner, I hope that’s okay,” Rachel said.   
  
“Sure Rachel.”  
  
“This is Quinn.”  
  
Rachel’s dad, Ronald, stared at her. Rachel’s other father, Michael, did the same.  
  
“Hello,” Quinn said, stepping forward to shake each of their hands.  
  
“Quinn,” Ronald said, recovering first. “It’s nice to see you again in our house. It’s been a long time.”  
  
“Yes,” Quinn agreed.  
  
“Hello, Quinn,” Michel said. “I’m glad you could join us for dinner.”  
  
“Thank you for having me,” Quinn said.  
  
\--  
  
The dinner was excruciatingly quiet. Rachel was quiet and was mostly focused on moving her food around her plate, her fathers tried to engage both Rachel and Quinn in conversation, but since Rachel was so quiet, Quinn overcompensated by talking a lot. But no one could talk as much as Rachel Berry, and since Rachel was keeping mum, the meal was extremely quiet indeed. And really, Rachel’s fathers talked more to one another than to either of the girls, so Quinn and Rachel mostly just listened to Rachel’s fathers talk.  
  
“I’m sorry I made it so awkward,” Quinn said with a groan as she followed Rachel upstairs. Rachel typically washed the dishes after dinner, but Michael waved them up the stairs once they finished eating.  
  
“What are you talking about?” Rachel asked blankly.  
  
“Dinner. You and your dads.”  
  
“That wasn’t awkward,” Rachel said. “That’s just us.” She paused. “We’ve actually gotten a lot better,” she said defensively. “It was way worse before. We’re still getting to know each other. That takes time.”  
  
Quinn winced. “Sorry,” she said. “I wasn’t trying to offend you.”  
  
“You didn’t,” Rachel said. “But this is just the way it is with my parents and me right now. Change is hard,” Rachel commented philosophically.   
  
Quinn looked at her and smiled. “Tough girl.”  
  
Rachel smiled back. “I could say the same for you.”  
  
\--  
  
They finished up for the night and Rachel walked Quinn to her car.   
  
“Well,” Rachel said softly. “Goodnight. Drive safely.”  
  
“It’s only a few blocks.”  
  
“Statistically, more accidents happen closer to home because people become complacent with the familiarity.”  
  
Quinn made a face but chose not to respond to the doom-and-gloom report. “Do you want to have lunch with me tomorrow?”  
  
“I’m already having lunch with Mike, Tina, Artie, Kurt and Mercedes. Do you want to join us?”  
  
Quinn hesitated. The truth was, despite the fact they were all in glee together and they’d definitely built a sense of camaraderie as a group, she wasn’t in a rush to get to know them individually. She liked them all well enough and she was reasonably certain they’d all end up being friends anyway, but she honestly wasn’t in a rush to make that happen. She primarily wanted to get to know Rachel. “I have Brit and Santana,” she said a little apologetically.  
  
Rachel nodded. “Maybe another time.”  
  
Quinn smiled. “Sure.”  
  
\--  
  
The next day, Quinn found herself wishing she’d just ditched Santana and Brittany to have lunch with Rachel and the others. But she knew she’d never hear the end of mockery from Santana. It was one thing to ditch them for Rachel-- Santana still mocked her for that. But if she’d ditched Santana and Brittany for Rachel plus five, Santana would mock her until the end of time.   
  
And anyway, Quinn did not like to share. She’d only had one sibling and since Aubrey was eight years older, she never  _really_  had to share. She didn’t like it when Rachel divided her attention so that she only got a little piece.  
  
But Quinn still found herself missing Rachel and thinking about the short skirts, tiny low-cut sweaters , miniscule tank tops and tight jeans she liked to wear. On that particular day, Rachel was wearing a pair of jeans so tight, Coach Sylvester threatened to send her home for a dress code violation that ‘bordered on pornographic.’ Half the school groaned involuntarily in protest when they heard Sylvester threatening to send Rachel home before first period.   
  
Rachel merely smiled, and walked away.  
  
Rachel found her after lunch. She sidled up to Quinn so quietly, Quinn didn’t even hear her approach. She’d been thinking about the long sleeve V-neck sweater that Rachel had been wearing with those jeans. The sweater was mostly modest, but showed off the barest hint of cleavage and Quinn felt herself blush at her own thoughts.   
  
“Hi,” Rachel murmured, coming right up to Quinn.  
  
Quinn jumped. “God! Wear a bell!”  
  
Rachel frowned. “This is not the first time I’ve been told this,” she said. “I’m not trying to be stealthy. It’s effortless.”  
  
“Creeper,” Quinn muttered.   
  
Rachel chuckled. “I feel a little stifled here today,” she murmured. “I’m not so sure I’ll last to the end of the day. I kind of feel like taking off. Would you like to take a ride in my car?”  
  
Quinn eyed her suspiciously. “That doesn’t sound like you. You’re plotting something, right?”  
  
“I was Googling Patti LuPone during lunch and apparently there’s a theatre in Akron where Ms. LuPone toured with Mandy Patinkin. I must pay tribute!”  
  
Quinn stared at her. “So, you were going to make me think you were having a bad day and you needed me to accompany you to feel better, when really, you were just trying to pay some crazy homage to some dinky theatre?”  
  
“If Patti LuPone performed there, it can’t be that bad! Are you familiar with the E.J. Thomas Hall?”  
  
Quinn bit her lip in amusement. “Rachel, do you know how far Akron is?”  
  
“No,” Rachel said. “But this is a very small state. I grew up in California, Quinn, which is exceedingly large.”  
  
“Rachel, it’s like, a hundred and fifty miles from here to Akron. It would take us, like, three hours just one way.”  
  
Rachel looked so disappointed that Quinn felt like a jerk for raining on her parade. That was the thing with this girl, even when she was  _insane_  Quinn felt like she’d just kicked a newborn puppy when she was just pointing out that a road trip right now to Akron was totally unfeasible.   
  
“Maybe this weekend though,” Quinn said. “You can wait a few days, right?”  
  
Rachel brightened. “You’ll go with me? Really?”  
  
“Yeah,” Quinn said. “What else do I have to do?” she tried to sound casual, but the starry-eyed gaze Rachel was giving her made her stomach summersault. She was sure the stars in Rachel’s eyes had more to do with Patti LuPone than with her, but she was the one Rachel was looking at.  
  
Rachel beamed at her and jumped twice in place, clapping her hands. She pulled Quinn into a quick hug.  
  
“I’ll bring snacks!” Rachel swore. “Non-vegan cookies just for you, whatever you want. Please make me a list of your three favorite types of cookies and I will happily accommodate whatever you ask for!”  
  
“Calm down, short stack. It’s just a road trip,” Quinn said, trying to sound exasperated, even if she was secretly pleased.   
  
“We’re paying tribute! It’s a homage!” Rachel was gesturing emphatically and she was so exhilarated, she bumped into a wall. “Ow!” she rubbed her shoulder.   
  
“I told you to calm down.”  
  
“Looking smug suits you,” Rachel teased.  
  
Quinn gently shoved Rachel. “Shut it, Berry.”  
  
Rachel stumbled slightly and Quinn reached out to steady her. She’d tried to be gentle, but she still used more force than she intended.   
  
Rachel laughed softly. “You brute,” she chided softly without any real anger. She ducked her head and peeked up at Quinn shyly. “I still want to get out of here,” she said. “I’m going to leave. Come with me? “  
  
Quinn looked at her suspiciously. “You’re not planning a trip to Canada, are you?”  
  
Rachel smiled crookedly. “Maybe just my house.”  
  
“Okay,” Quinn agreed.   
  
Rachel grinned at her and grabbed her by the hand.   
  
“Wha--”  
  
Rachel began pulling and Quinn quickly shut her locker and allowed herself to be pulled down the hall by Rachel as they ran-- Rachel’s smaller hand gripping her own. They were stifling giggles when they reached Rachel’s car and dissolved into full-fledged laugher they got inside.  
  
It took a few minutes for them to stop laughing and catch their breaths, their hands were still clutched together. They were each leaning back as far as they could go in their seats and were facing one another, Rachel’s right cheek resting against the back of her seat and Quinn’s left cheek resting against the back of hers.  
  
They stared at one another for a moment before Rachel smiled at her.   
  
“Let’s go,” she said softly.  
  
“Okay,” Quinn said.  
  
Rachel started the car and immediately, the sounds of She&Him’s ‘Ridin’ In My Car’ filled the space.   
  
“How fitting,” Quinn commented.  
  
Rachel laughed. “It’s a sign,” she said with a smile, because it was a song that came over the radio, and not something she put on a CD. “I love this song.”  
  
She backed out of the space and looked around for school security. She didn’t have a problem getting out of the school gate.   
  
“‘And I still think about you every time when I’m ridin’ in my car,’” Rachel sang along quietly.   
  
“’Ridin’ in my car,’” Quinn echoed.  
  
Rachel turned to look at Quinn and grinned.  
  
They sang along together for the rest of the song. The next song happened to be John Mayer’s ‘Your Body is a Wonderland,’ but this time they chose to hum along rather than sing.  
  
“John Mayer looks like such a tool,” Quinn commented. “But I really love this song.”  
  
“It’s very sweet,” Rachel agreed. “But I agree with you about Mayer. He looks like a tool. His eyes look dead.”  
  
“I know, right?!” Quinn exclaimed. “He’s obviously soulless.”  
  
“He probably sold it,” Rachel said sagely. She pulled in front of her house just as the song finished. She shut off the engine. “Let’s go inside.”  
  
\--  
  
Rachel put her iPod into her docking station and set it to shuffle.  
  
They sat together on Rachel’s bed as they painted their toenails. Rachel had a thing about her manicures and pedicures-- she was constantly changing the color and couldn’t seem to commit to a color for longer than a few days. She often went back and forth between a few staples, but she didn’t seem comfortable unless she changed the color constantly.  
  
Quinn didn’t get that at all. She liked things to be less labor-intensive. She picked a color and stuck with it, often for weeks at a time. Granted she touched up her manicures and redid them, but she often went with the same color. Once she found something she liked, she stuck with it. Sometimes, she didn’t even have to really like something to stick with it, if she felt comfortable enough.   
  
It was most of the reason she stuck with Finn and why she even bothered trying to get him back after the baby was born in the first place.   
  
“That color really suits you,” Rachel commented, gesturing toward Quinn’s newly painted nails.   
  
“Thanks,” Quinn said.   
  
“But I think it’d be very difficult to find a color that didn’t suit you,” Rachel said. “Perhaps puce? Puce even sounds like a disgusting color. What is puce?”  
  
“It’s kind of a brown. And I even make puce look good.”  
  
Rachel smiled crookedly. “I have no doubt. You’re so beautiful, after all.” She paused. “Quinn, I saw that, don’t you dare get nail polish on my bedspread. If your hand isn’t steady enough, I’ll paint your toes for you.” She paused again. “After you wash your feet. I don’t think we know each other well enough for me to touch your feet without you washing them first.”  
  
Quinn swallowed hard. Rachel was casual with compliments-- she didn’t make them seem like a big deal, but she always sounded so sincere. Like the other day in a glee practice when Rachel told Mike, “you’re indispensable because you and Brittany are the best dancers and without you guys, we’d have no sense of theatricality in our performances” when he’d bemoaned being useless to the team because he really couldn’t sing. Mike grinned from ear-to-ear for the rest of practice.   
  
Rachel gave compliments freely, and though Quinn knew Rachel was sincere, she was also well aware that just because Rachel told her she was beautiful didn’t mean she was anything special to Rachel.   
  
But Rachel telling her she was beautiful could make her hands tremble.   
  
“Thank you,” Quinn said quietly. She’d been told she was pretty all her life, and she didn’t feel she was being arrogant when she felt her family was genetically blessed. They were all good-looking. But all her life, girls tried to tear her down and boys only wanted her for one thing. But Rachel told her she was beautiful and didn’t qualify it with ‘but that’s all you have going for you’ or ‘so let me touch your boob.’ No. Rachel just told her she was beautiful and then simply moved onto the next topic.   
  
Rachel frowned, perplexed. “For refusing to touch your feet until you wash them?”  
  
The girl was also oblivious.   
  
Quinn shook her head. “No, for telling me I…”  
  
“Have an unsteady hand and therefore may not be trusted to paint your nails on my bedspread?”  
  
Make that extremely oblivious.  
  
“No,” Quinn said, exasperated. “For telling me I’m...” she trailed off.  
  
“Oh.” Rachel said. “Beautiful? Well, you are. It’s a statement of fact. You shouldn’t thank someone for telling the truth. Unless, of course, it would endanger them or something. Although one might argue in some instances telling the truth is morally compelling even when it would bring danger to oneself. I don’t think that’s the case here though.”  
  
Quinn released a soft sigh. Slowly, Rachel was becoming even more comfortable at school, and so Rachel’s social circle had widened from Mike, Tina, Artie, Mercedes and Kurt to include her. But now it was expanding (slowly) to include the other members of glee, and pretty soon, Quinn thought it would expand even further to include more people.   
  
Rachel was beautiful, but at McKinley, sometimes it wasn’t enough to just be beautiful if a person had something that diminished that appeal like a terrible fashion sense or being considered a tattletail. Rachel was considered ‘damaged goods’ and she didn’t do much to negate that perception outside of her small circle of friends.   
  
But if the rest of McKinley knew how sweet, supportive and charming Rachel could be on  _top_  of being beautiful, Quinn knew people would try to claim Rachel for their own. She knew it was awful, but she hoped the rest of McKinley never got to know how great Rachel really was, because Quinn  _truly_ hated to share.   
  
\--  
  
The weekend came quickly and on Saturday morning, Rachel came over at a relatively decent hour, though still somewhat indecent for a weekend. Quinn blearily eyed Rachel as she sipped coffee. Her mother prepared breakfast for them which they were all eating together. Rachel was chattering away about Patti LuPone and Mandy Patinkin. Quinn’s mother was clearly amused.  
  
It took a while for Quinn to really wake up, but she was fully alert by the time she left her house, her mother calling out to drive safe and Rachel calling back that she hoped Mrs. Fabray enjoyed the cookies.  
  
“Kiss ass,” Quinn teased, because Rachel had baked a batch of cookies for her mother.  
  
“It’s mere etiquette, Quinn.”  
  
Quinn snorted.   
  
\--  
  
It took more than three hours to drive to Akron because of the icy road conditions.   
  
“Maybe we shouldn’t have done this in  _February_ ,” Quinn griped. “Maybe we should have waited for spring.”  
  
“I must obey my whims..”  
  
Quinn rolled her eyes. “You’re so weird.”  
  
\--  
  
They found parking and walked to the front of the theatre, staring at the building which was on the campus of a university. In Quinn’s estimation, it wasn’t that much to look at-- it was just a building. It wasn’t even shaped like something unusual-- it was just rectangular. But Rachel stood up at the edge of the frozen fountain in front of the building and stared up at it.  
  
“Want to go inside?” Quinn asked.  
  
“Okay,” Rachel said softly.  
  
They explored the building for thirty minutes. Rachel stared at the stage where Patti LuPone once performed and smiled wistfully.   
  
“I’ll perform here one day,” Rachel said, but she didn’t sound so much cocky as she did hopeful. “You know, before I make my Broadway debut. Although if it’s good enough for Patti LuPone, obviously it’s good enough for me.”  
  
Quinn chuckled. “Do you mind if I look around the campus? I might end up coming here, so I might as well look around.”  
  
Rachel raised an eyebrow. “You want to stay in Ohio? I guess I just assumed that you’d want to leave Ohio and go out-of-state.” She smiled shyly. “But maybe I’m just being a snob.”  
  
They began to walk out of the building.   
  
“I’d like to,” Quinn admitted. “I really thought I had a shot at getting out of Lima before last year.”  
  
Rachel gazed at her quizzically. “Why? Was your GPA not up to par? You know, this year is more important than last year.”  
  
“I got pregnant last year,” Quinn said quietly.   
  
“Oh,” Rachel said. “I heard about that. But you gave up the baby for adoption, didn’t you?”  
  
“Yeah,” Quinn said. “But still. Pregnant girls don’t get to leave Lima.”  
  
“Well, you’re not pregnant anymore.” Rachel paused. “Are you? I hope not, because if you are, that shows very poor judgment on your part. Although I’ll be supportive of whatever you decide,” she added quickly.  
  
“I’m not pregnant,” Quinn said rolling her eyes.  
  
They walked out of the building into the cold air. She linked her arm with Rachel’s and they walked standing very close together, huddling for warmth.   
  
“But girls like me don’t get to leave,” Quinn said quietly.  
  
“What do you mean girls like you?”  
  
“You know…”  
  
“No,” Rachel said. “I really don’t. That’s why I’m asking for clarification. Aren’t you third in our class? You perform well academically, you have many extracurricular activities including being on a nationally-ranked cheerleading team. With my guidance, our glee team will make Nationals this year, that is, if Mr. Schuester will stop sabotaging us by refusing to implement my suggestions. And your family could afford college, even out-of-state fees with financial aid. I’m not sure what you mean about girls like you not being able to leave. It makes no sense to me at all.”  
  
“I don’t know,” Quinn said quietly. When Rachel put it that way, like, it was the most reasonable thing in the world and she was being completely irrational for even having doubts, it all seemed so within reach. But she’d convinced herself she was never going to make it out of Lima after she got pregnant and even though she didn’t have the baby anymore, Quinn no longer had the same confidence she used to before she got pregnant.   
  
“What don’t you know?” Rachel asked softly.   
  
“I feel like I’m just going to end up this middle aged housewife. I’ll be married to Finn and I’ll get my real estate license, but I won’t even be a good one, I’ll just like, sell houses to my friends and my mom.”  
  
Rachel winced as she remembered the words she said to Quinn once that mirrored that sentiment.  
  
“Quinn, when I said that--”  
  
“It’s okay,” Quinn said, stopping her. “It was kind of the life I had planned out for myself. It was scary how close you got to what I was already thinking.”  
  
“You can do better,” Rachel said confidently. “If that’s not what you want, forget it. You can have the life you actually want.”  
  
“I’m not so sure,” Quinn said   
  
“Why not?” Rachel asked gently.  
  
“I don’t know,” Quinn whispered, and she really didn’t know where all her former confidence went  
  
Rachel stopped walking and gently pulled Quinn to a stop. She took Quinn’s hands in her own and peered up at Quinn, her eyes gazing intently into Quinn.  
  
“What do you want for yourself, Quinn?” Rachel asked softly.   
  
“I don’t know exactly,” Quinn admitted. “I don’t want to be here in Ohio,” she said quietly. “I want a nice place to live somewhere not here. Somewhere bigger, like LA or New York or even just Chicago. I don’t really need a job that I  _love_  but I at least want one that I don’t  _hate_. Good friends. Enough money to be able to do fun stuff, but not worry too much about paying the bills. A girl who loves me. A--” Quinn trailed off in horror as she realized her mistake one moment too soon. Quinn tugged her hands to pull them away, but Rachel tightened her grip.  
  
“That all sounds reasonable,” Rachel said softly. “There’s nothing in there that sounds outlandish. Those are all things you deserve.”  
  
Quinn swallowed hard. “Rachel. What I said about…” her eyes welled with tears. “You can’t…you can’t  _tell_  anyone. I--“  
  
“I promise I won’t tell anyone that you like to have fun,” Rachel said solemnly. “I know how shocking it would be considering your reputation for being humorless.” She smiled crookedly and pulled off her gloves. She tenderly brushed the skin under Quinn’s eyes with her thumbs, wiping away the tears that had gathered there. She smiled and slipped her gloves back on. “Why don’t we forego the tour of this campus? You’re not going to this school anyway, because you’re going out-of-state. It would be a waste of time.”  
  
For a moment, Quinn thought maybe Rachel didn’t catch her little slip-up, but she knew that was impossible. And when she thought about it, she didn’t know what she was so worried about. Maybe with someone else, she should be worried, but this was  _Rachel_.  
  
Quinn took a shaky breath. She couldn’t believe how incredible it felt to have one more person know. When she’d told her sister about it, Aubrey had been uncharacteristically sweet and reassuring. But now someone outside her immediate family knew and she’d been unprepared for how good that felt.   
  
\--  
  
After that day, the joy she felt of having Rachel as her friend morphed into a full-on obsessive crush. She’d already had a moderately-sized crush, but it quickly turned into a fixation after that day.   
  
Not that she could do anything about it. Rachel had a crush on Mike Chang, who only had eyes for Tina. The crush Rachel had on Mike was benign, but it still kept her oblivious from the romantic overtures other people paid her. And anyway, Quinn was glad she told her friend that she…wasn’t heterosexual, but Quinn wasn’t ready to tell Rachel how she felt for her.   
  
\--  
  
By the end of February, Quinn decided it was finally time to break up with Finn. He deserved better. She did care for him and she did love him, but staying with him was like saying all he deserved was to be with someone who was incapable of loving him completely. She loved him too much for that. She was trying to be a better person, and one of the ways she felt she could be better was to treat people she liked with a little more dignity and respect.   
  
He was upset by the break-up and immediately began dating another Cheerio, but eventually he calmed down, and by mid-March, they were on speaking terms again.  
  
She did, however, want to murder him when he asked Rachel out.  
  
“I can’t,” Rachel said apologetically. “You dated Quinn and I have a rule about dating the exes of my friends. I’m very flattered though.”  
  
It was mean, but Quinn couldn’t stop herself from grinning when she heard Rachel refuse. She knew she couldn’t have Rachel, but she didn’t want  _Finn_ pawing her.  



	6. Chapter 6

Quinn wasn’t sure, exactly, why their first kiss happened or what Rachel was thinking or feeling when Rachel kissed her because when Rachel truly wanted to cover up how she felt, she was painfully competent at doing so. All Quinn knew was that there was something about that day which turned into the perfect recipe for their first kiss.    
  
Spring arrived, the weather was warmer and when Rachel suggested a jog in the park, Quinn readily agreed because fitness was important to both of them. Rachel, who grew up in California and apparently had an abnormally high body temperature, tended to wear scandalously short skirts even in the dead of winter. When there was even a hint of warmth in the air, those skirts became even shorter which also apparently translated into the rest of Rachel’s wardrobe. The shorts Rachel chose to wear for their run were so short, they could less be described as shorts and more described as a scrap of fabric.    
  
Even so, Rachel seemed oblivious to the looks of appreciation she got as she ran and Quinn had to admit she trailed just a few beats after Rachel partly because Rachel actually was the better runner between the two of them, but also because she  _really_  enjoyed the view.   
  
Rachel ran five miles every morning and spent thirty minutes on the elliptical before she got ready for school. Quinn thought this was pure insanity and she used to flatly refuse to wake up at 5am just so she could join Rachel for her insane morning runs. But now that the weather was a little warmer, Quinn was reconsidering her opinion.   
  
They were both sweaty and overall very gross when they got back to Rachel’s house. Quinn was still a little uncomfortable when she went to Rachel’s house if one or both of her fathers were home. There was definitely something oppressive in the home and when Quinn joined the Berrys for dinner, the meals were just as silent, stilted and awkward as the first she’d joined them for.    
  
‘I’m just not connecting with them,” Rachel admitted quietly once. “I want to, but it’s just not happening. I grew up without a father and I don’t know how to handle having one, let alone  _two_ . My stepdad was really good to me, but he and my mother met when I was twelve and he’s really different from them. He gave me space and they’re just kind of…on top of me a lot. They’re trying to force things, but we don’t have anything really to talk about. I’m not even sure I know how to talk to them. I’m trying to get used to it, but I feel like I’m not who they wanted. And I’m trying to be who they want me to be, but it’s been a really steep learning curve and I’m just not getting it. I know they wanted me back, but they didn’t have to be parents for over ten years and I’m sure having me around is putting a damper on the life they’ve accustomed themselves to.”   
  
“I doubt they look at it that way,” Quinn said gently.   
  
Rachel shrugged. “I think they do.”   
  
“It really messed them up when you were gone,” Quinn said softly.    
  
She knew this for a fact. She used to see both men around town in threadbare white-shirts with Rachel’s tiny handprint on the lower left and ‘Happy Father’s Day’ on the back. Her own father once had the same t-shirt only with her handprints and she knew the t-shirts must have been some Father’s Day present their daycare made with them. Quinn wasn’t sure if her father kept that shirt, but she’d seen both of Rachel’s fathers wearing those shirts as recently as last summer, shortly before Rachel was found. She knew Rachel and her fathers weren’t connecting the way any of them hoped, but she didn’t think Rachel’s fathers were disappointed, either. This was all just hard on them-- and for good reason.    
  
Rachel smiled sadly. “I almost wish my mom were awful to me so that the years apart would have been just as bad to me as they were to them. Maybe then coming back would have been better and we’d have a great relationship now. But being away from them didn’t mess me up. Being  _here_  is messing me up.”   
  
It’d made Quinn sad to hear because she’d hoped she had a part in making Rachel feel more welcome in Lima. Rachel seemed happier, after all. But she didn’t blame Rachel for feeling that way. But she hoped things had gotten better since she had the conversation with Rachel.    
  
  
\--   
  
Once they returned to Rachel’s house after their run, they sat around Rachel’s kitchen table, guzzling water and eating squares of pre-cut pineapple. Guiltily, Quinn thought about how much better it was to sit at this table when Rachel’s fathers weren’t present.   
  
“So how are things with you and your dads?”   
  
Rachel smile was slow, rueful. “The same.”   
  
Quinn winced. “Sorry.”   
  
“It’s okay,” Rachel said quietly. “I’m optimistic that things will get better. We just need more time, maybe.” Rachel made a face which clearly begged the question, ‘how  _much_  more time?’ but she grinned at Quinn.   
  
Quinn raised an eyebrow. “Are you  _sure_  you guys don’t need a therapist?”   
  
Rachel made a face. “I recognize therapy as being effective in some situations, and as a valid profession, but  _I’m_  not ready to talk about things. I didn’t go even after my mom died. I wasn’t ready then and I’m still not ready. I just need to think some things through on my own before I talk about it to some quack with a degree.”   
  
Quinn nodded. “Yeah, I get it. I’m not a therapy person.”   
  
Rachel gave her a small smile. “You’ve got…” Rachel pointed toward Quinn’s chin.   
  
Self-consciously Quinn rubbed her chin. “Pineapple juice?”   
  
Rachel nodded. “Yes,” she said. She swiped her thumb across a spot on Quinn’s chin since Quinn missed it. “All better now,” she said with a smile, wiping her thumb on a napkin.   
  
“Thanks,” Quinn said softly.   
  
“Sure,” Rachel said. She smiled at Quinn, but then her eyes flickered away to stare at the table top. Her gaze found Quinn again and Rachel blushed and smiled shyly. She swallowed visibly. “Oh, fuck it,” she said softly.   
  
Quinn’s forehead furrowed. “What?”   
  
“I’m can be very impetuous on occasion,” Rachel declared quietly.    
  
“Okay…” Quinn said softly.   
  
Rachel pulled her chair closer to Quinn and leaned in toward the blonde. Rachel reached for Quinn’s hand and their palms rested flat against each other, as if measuring them against each other. Quinn’s palm and fingers were slightly longer than Rachel’s and Quinn found herself staring at their hands.    
  
“I’ve noticed our hands fit together,” Rachel said shyly. She interlocked their fingers together and squeezed.    
  
Quinn swallowed hard. “Yeah,” she said thickly.   
  
“I think that’s neat,” Rachel murmured.   
  
Quinn snorted. “Neat?” she echoed. “What are you, a teenager from the 1950s? Neato!”   
  
Rachel smiled and pulled her hand away from Quinn’s. “It’s not polite to tease,” she chided gently, taping her left index finger against the tip of Quinn’s nose. She smiled and palmed Quinn’s cheek with one hand and leaned in so their faces were only centimeters apart.”I’m trying to tell you that I like you. But you’re mocking me and therefore, this diminishes my confidence.”   
  
Quinn exhaled softly through her mouth. She couldn’t move, but she couldn’t resist smiling when her nose grazed against Rachel’s.   
  
Rachel’s lips puckered slightly and she pressed a tiny, chaste peck to the centre of Quinn’s lips. Rachel’s head pulled back just a few centimeters and her eyes gazed into Quinn’s questioningly. When Quinn made no move to pull back, Rachel smiled and pressed her lips to Quinn’s in a fuller kiss.   
  
Quinn swallowed hard.  _Of course_  a part of her knew she wanted this, but she’d become content to just have Rachel as a friend, because she’d just assumed she’d never be able to have more than that. Rachel’s lips were full and tasted like pineapple. Quinn knew she’d never stop associating the taste of pineapple and sunlight filtering in through a kitchen window with Rachel as long as she lived.   
  
The press of Rachel’s lips against hers was soft and tentative at first. Quinn had never kissed another girl before, except Rachel when they were little, but Quinn didn’t count that because it was only on the nose. Their lips were slightly parted, but their kisses were chaste-- just soft brushes of their lips. It took a few minutes for Quinn to get up the courage to lick her tongue across Rachel’s lower lip and then gently try to move her tongue into Rachel’s mouth. Rachel’s mouth parted and Quinn released a low moan as the tip of her tongue touched Rachel’s.    
  
Kissing never really interested her that much when it was with guys-- it was more something she did because she knew she had to give up  _something_ . She always just thought of kissing as being slightly unsanitary and not really for pleasure. She never really understood the appeal of two tongues touching.   
  
Until Rachel. It was inexplicable, really, because it was still kissing-- an activity she never really found pleasurable or interesting. Maybe Rachel was just a better kisser than Finn or Puck, or maybe it was just the fact that it was  _Rachel_ , but having a taste of Rachel in her mouth, that brush of her tongue against Rachel’s just made Quinn want Rachel even more.    
  
They were flushed and sweaty again when they pulled apart. Rachel swallowed hard and leaned in again to press kisses to Quinn’s neck. Quinn threaded her fingers through Rachel’s hair and tossed her head back, let out a groan, pressing Rachel’s head closer to her.    
  
Quinn had only been with boys and both Finn and Puck were much larger and rougher than Rachel was. Rachel was small and just  _fit_ . There was no facial stubble that grazed against her skin that made Quinn feel like someone was exfoliating her skin. Rachel was just  _soft_  and Quinn let out a shaky moan as Rachel kissed, nipped and sucked at her neck, but not hard or long enough to leave any hickeys, since Rachel had long ago declared hickeys were ‘vulgar’ and voiced her disdain for them.   
  
Quinn swallowed hard and pulled away, pushing gently against Rachel’s shoulders. “Wait,” she said, swallowing with difficulty. “I…does this mean anything to you?” she asked quietly, because she remembered the kiss she’d witnessed between Rachel and her friend, Claire, at the airport. Rachel mentioned that she and Claire grew up being physically intimate with one another, and while they’d loved each other, there were no romantic feelings between them. Quinn wondered if Rachel was doing something similar with her.   
  
Rachel looked vaguely insulted. “Of course it means something to me,” she said. “I wouldn’t have kissed you if it didn’t mean something.”   
  
“Okay, I know,” Quinn placated. “But if you’re just in this to turn this into some friends with benefits situation, that really isn’t for me. I can’t do that. If that’s what you want, I should go home and we can just hang out tomorrow and pretend nothing happened.”   
  
Because it would absolutely shatter her heart.    
  
“Okay,” Rachel said slowly. “Why don’t you go home…”   
  
Quinn felt her heart clench. This was going to be the worst day ever.   
  
“And shower,” Rachel continued. “I’ll do the same and then we can both get ready. I’m taking you out on a proper date today. If you need something to demonstrate that this means something to me, I feel I need to take you out on a proper date. ”   
  
Quinn brightened. She grinned at Rachel. “A date?”   
  
“A date,” Rachel said, nodding. “Shall I define it for you? It’s an appointment for a particular time, especially with a person to whom one is sexually or romantically attached. It’s also a ritual of courtship which may include any social activity undertaken by, typically, two persons with the aim of assessing each other's suitability as a partner.”   
  
“I know what a date is,” Quinn said dryly. “But now I’m not so sure I want to have one with you.”   
  
Rachel gave her a small smile. “Are you rejecting me?” she asked lightly, but she suddenly looked a little wary. Quinn hadn’t seen that wariness in Rachel’s eyes in months.   
  
“No,” Quinn said quickly. “But uh, I’m going to go. I’m going to shower. I’ll come back. What time should I get here?”   
  
“Why don’t we reconvene in two hours?”   
  
Quinn nodded. “Okay,” she said. “I’ll be back.”    
  
Rachel smiled. “No. I’ll pick you up. The asker must pick up the askee.”   
  
Quinn smiled. “Okay. Thanks.” She stood up and Rachel rose to her feet as well.   
  
Quinn moved to kiss Rachel’s cheek, but stopped. They put their arms out toward one another awkwardly and then shared a soft laugh at the new awkwardness between them. They shared a hug and Quinn pressed a kiss to Rachel’s cheek.    
  
“Okay, see you later,” Quinn said.    
  
Rachel smiled. “Dress casual,” she murmured. “I really like that blue top you were wearing last week. It really brought out your eyes.”   
  
“My eyes aren’t blue,” Quinn pointed out.   
  
Rachel smiled. “I know that, Hazel Eyes. But didn’t I tell you that any color was flattering on you?”   
  
Quinn blushed. “Oh yeah,” she said with a soft laugh. “Okay, I’ll see you soon.”   
  
“See you soon.”   
  
\--   
  
When Quinn got home, there was already a text message from Rachel.   
  
_I’m starving, but a meal is a requisite part of any date, so I’m going to ask you not to have full meal before we meet_   
  
Quinn chuckled and rolled her eyes. Sometimes, she felt like the thing she had for Rachel was inexplicable. But most of the time, she knew exactly why she liked the other girl so much.   
  
\--   
  
It was exactly one hour and thirty minutes later, and Quinn was scrambling to get her hair to look right when Rachel texted her.   
  
_One more hour?_   
  
Quinn sighed with relief.   
  
_YES, please_   
  
\--   
  
Rachel showed up at her door in a yellow dress that reminded Quinn of the sun \and a smile so bright that Quinn thought the sun would be envious.   
  
“You look beautiful,” Rachel said sincerely. “Are you ready?”   
  
“Yes,” Quinn said softly.   
  
Rachel grinned. “Good,” she said, taking Quinn by the hand and leading the blonde to her car. Rachel opened the passenger side door for Quinn and waited until the blonde was in the car with her seat belt fastened before she shut the door and went around the other side to get in herself.   
  
“Hungry?” Rachel asked.   
  
“I’m  _starving_ .”   
  
“Good,” Rachel said with a grin.   
  
\--   
  
Rachel pulled into the parking lot of a new restaurant that had opened up recently. They’d talked about trying it, but thus far had not yet had the opportunity, at least, not together.   
  
“Have you been here yet?” Quinn asked.   
  
“I had breakfast here with Mike last week,” Rachel said. “I liked it. There is a lot of bacon on the menu and so, of course, I thought of you instantly. I’ve been waiting all this time to take you and I’m glad I finally had the opportunity.”   
  
“I thought you were going to wait to try it with me first,” Quinn said with a pout.   
  
Rachel smiled crookedly. “I wanted to try it first. I didn’t want to take you somewhere new and have it be terrible. What if you got food poisoning? I would not be able to live with that kind of guilt.”   
  
Quinn smiled back. “I’m not made of china, you know,” she said. “I could have handled it.”   
  
“I’ll remember that for next time,” Rachel promised.   
  
\--   
  
Just as Rachel said, there were loads of bacon-related food items on the menu. Quinn knew it was so bad for her, but she tried to eat right most of the time and bacon really was her weakness. When it came to food anyway.    
  
\--   
  
“I’m so full, you’re going to have to roll me out of here,” Quinn groaned when they’d finished eating and settled the tab.   
  
They’d fought over the bill, but Rachel ultimately reigned triumphant and paid the bill in full.   
  
“I’m taking  _you_  out,” Rachel reminded with a smile. ”How can I distinguish myself from your previous and current suitors if I don’t at least pay for your meal?”   
  
Quinn wished she had the nerve to tell Rachel that the brunette had already distinguished herself from everyone Quinn had ever met. But she just wasn’t  _that_  brave.    
\--   
  
When they exited the restaurant, Rachel linked their arms and they walked toward Rachel’s car. Quinn thought that this was how a first date was supposed to feel-- she was comfortable, but she still felt a little bit of anticipatory nervousness and excitement.    
  
“I’m so full,” Rachel griped. “Do you want to walk around a little to burn off the calories?”   
  
Quinn smiled. “Sure.”   
  
They walked arm-in-arm. “I’m very relieved I chose to wear a dress,” Rachel commented. “If I were wearing pants, I would be worrying about unbuttoning them to make way for my ever expanding stomach.”   
  
Quinn laughed, “I’m glad I wore a skirt for that same reason, too,” she admitted   
  
Rachel smiled warmly at her. “You don’t have to worry about that reason.”   
  
Quinn chuckled. “You should have seen me when I was pregnant. I looked like a beached whale. Sometimes I’d be on my back and I couldn’t get up, like one of those ticks that gorge themselves on dogs.”   
  
Rachel laughed. “I bet you were cute,” she murmured, squeezing Quinn’s arm.    
  
Quinn snorted in derision. “Don’t ever go to Vegas. You’d lose big time.”   
  
Rachel’s lips quirked into a soft smile. “I’d bet on you,” she said softly.   
  
“You would?” Quinn asked quietly.   
  
“Well…” Rachel murmured. “I already kind of did,” she pointed out.   
  
Quinn bit her lower lip and smiled.   
  
\--   
  
They walked around for a while and then got back into the car. They were quiet as they passed Faurot Park.   
  
“Do you think we could stop there for a while?” Rachel asked.   
  
Quinn hesitated for a moment before she agreed. “Okay.”   
  
Lima had a number of parks, but Faurot seemed to be the most popular one. Quinn had not stepped foot in it since she as four years old. Even when she and Rachel got together to run at a park, they avoided Faurot.    
  
They parked and walked inside, arm-in-arm.   
  
“Do you really remember that much from when we were little?” Rachel asked.   
  
They’d talked about their history on a number of occasions and Rachel always looked a little dubious when Quinn recited some memory.   
  
“Kind of,” Quinn said quietly as they passed the swings where she and Rachel had played together on the day Rachel’s mother took her. “We played here the day your mom…well, you know. My mom and I left, but we were driving by here again to pick up Aubrey from her friend’s house and I saw you by the entrance standing by yourself. My mom didn’t let us stop and we’ve talked to the police a lot about that day.”   
  
“But you remember stuff,” Rachel pressed.   
  
“Well…yeah,” Quinn said quietly. She knew other people didn’t remember much from when they were little, but Rachel’s disappearance had greatly impacted her childhood. Her mother was so paranoid about Quinn being taken, too, that her childhood had been stifling. And in the early weeks and months of Rachel’s disappearance, she’d missed her friend desperately.    
  
Rachel looked frustrated. “I don’t remember much,” she said. “Not consciously anyway. My mom, she…” her voice trembled a little. “I remember that I remembered my dads,” she admitted quietly. “I used to ask about them and she’d say that I dreamt it and that I didn’t have a dad. She kept telling me it was a dream and I’d ask about people…I think I asked about you. And she would say it was just a really vivid dream. Sometime she’d get kind of mad if I brought it up too much, so I just stopped. I honestly thought I dreamt stuff up. I never…” her voice wavered. “I never imagined any of it was real.”   
  
“I kind of hate your mom,” Quinn said softly before she could stop herself. The moment she said it, she tensed, waiting for things to blow up. Even after what Shelby Corcoran did, Rachel was very defensive when it came to her mother.   
  
Rachel stared at her for a moment before chuckling a little. “Sometimes I hate her, too,” she admitted. “But mostly I miss her.”   
  
“Yeah,” Quinn said softly.   
  
“I’ve only been here once since I’ve been back,” Rachel said looking around. “And that was with Claire. But I pass by here all the time.”   
  
“Me too,” Quinn said quietly.   
  
“It’s really pretty here,” Rachel said.   
  
“Yeah,” Quinn agreed.   
  
“Let’s not let one bad thing ruin it for us, okay? It would be such a shame for such a beautiful place to have stigma attached to it.”   
  
“Okay,” Quinn agreed.   
  
“But let’s leave though. It’s frankly giving me the creeps.”   
  
“Definitely,” Quinn said.   
  
Laughing, they grabbed hands and ran to Rachel’s car.   
  
\--   
  
They drove around for a while, but ultimately ducked into a camera shop where Quinn explored old plastic cameras. She’d always been artistic, and though it wasn’t something she was going to admit to publicly, she really liked sketching, drawing, painting and taking pictures.    
  
“I like this one, because it’s aesthetically pleasing,” Rachel declared, picking up a blue camera decorated with white clouds.   
  
“It’s a piece of crap,” Quinn said with a grin. “It’s just pretty. It’s a pretty piece of crap.”   
  
Rachel set it down. “Oh,” she said. She smiled. “Show me one you like.”   
  
\--   
  
They browsed for nearly an hour. Quinn had grown up wealthy, but she didn’t like spending money on crap. She finally did find one she liked-- one of those old Russian cameras, but then she saw the price tag.    
  
$200 for a camera that still used  _film_ .   
  
Disappointed, Quinn set it back.    
  
“What’s wrong?”   
  
“I don’t really want it that much. It’s pretty expensive. I think I’d buy it if it were cheaper, but it still uses  _film_ .”   
  
“You seem like you want it though.”   
  
“It’s okay,” Quinn said, still a little disappointed. She’d read about this particular camera online and she was curious about trying it out, especially now that she had the perfect subject (Rachel). But she just couldn’t justify the cost, even if she could afford her. Her mother was working full-time now and they just couldn’t spend money as freely as they used to when her father was with them. He paid alimony and child support, but Quinn had come to view money differently since her parents’ divorce. She wasn’t as extravagant with it anymore and she didn’t hit her mother up for cash as much as she used to. “Let’s go,” Quinn said quietly.    
  
“Are you sure?”   
  
“Yeah. Let’s go.”   
  
“Okay.”   
  
They left without buying anything and were already out on the street when Rachel stopped.   
  
“I left my purse,” she said. “I must have left it on the display when I picked up that Instamax camera. I need to run in and get it.”   
  
“I’ll go with you.”   
  
“No,” Rachel said. “Could you put some more money in the meter? I don’t want to get a ticket and I want to go next door afterward. I have a hankering for some shaved ice. And I’ll buy you an ice cream cone.”   
  
Quinn smiled. “Okay.”   
  
\--   
  
Rachel stepped out a few minutes later. Quinn wondered what the hell was taking her so long and had been ready to go inside when Rachel finally came out.    
  
“Sorry,” Rachel said. “I guess the proprietor was in the restroom. I had to wait because he already had my purse behind the counter.”   
  
“Oh,” Quinn said. “Let’s go next door.”   
  
“Okay,” Rachel said. “What’s your favorite ice cream flavor anyway?”   
  
“Strawberries and cream,” Quinn informed. “What’s yours?”   
  
“Vanilla. But I don’t eat ice cream anymore. You know, the vegan thing. Hence the reason I’m going to get shaved ice.”   
  
Quinn snorted. “Vanilla,” she muttered.    
  
“What?” Rachel asked. “Do you think I’m boring because I liked vanilla?”   
  
“No,” Quinn said. “I was thinking how vanilla got a lot less wholesome. ”   
  
Rachel laughed and swatted at Quinn’s shoulder. “Come on, let’s go,” she said pulling Quinn toward the ice cream/frozen yogurt/shaved ice shop next door.   
  
\--   
  
They’d finished eating their snack and drove back to Quinn’s house.    
  
“Do you want to come in?” Quinn asked, as they were parked in front of her house. “My mom’s not home.”   
  
“I shouldn’t,” Rachel said apologetically. “I should get home. My dads want to do a movie night.”   
  
“Oh,” Quinn said disappointed.    
  
“I’m sorry,” Rachel said. She smiled. “I would love to come in. But I don’t want to disappoint them. Believe me. I don’t want to leave you right now. I had a great time,” she said quietly.    
  
“Me too.”   
  
Rachel grinned and leaned in close, pressing her lips to Quinn’s. They kissed languidly, this kiss being much less tentative than the first they shared just a few hours before. They broke apart.    
  
“Let’s hang out tomorrow,” Quinn whispered.    
  
“Sure,” Rachel agreed.    
  
She gave Quinn one of those dazzling smiles and Quinn felt her legs become rubbery and wobbly, the way they felt after a particularly long run or when Coach Sylvester made them run suicides.    
  
“Okay,” Quinn said. She opened the door and moved to get out.    
  
“Wait.”   
  
“Yeah?”   
  
Rachel grabbed her purse and pulled out the camera that she’d purchased for Quinn. She held it toward Quinn.    
  
Quinn stared at her for a moment and she instinctively reached out to take it.   
  
“Here,” Rachel said. “I got you a roll of film, too,” she said, pulling that out and handing it to Quinn.   
  
“You got this for me? Why? It’s way too expensive for--”   
  
“Claire is into photography, too,” Rachel interrupted with a smile. “I know a quality camera when I see it. And I know a quality girl. Have fun with it.”   
  
Quinn was reasonably certain she was in love. Mad ly, madly in love.    
  
\--   
  
Quinn was a fan of labels, though not particularly fond of attaching them to herself because so many unwanted labels applied to her-- bitch and lesbian being two such labels. Still, she liked labels, liked things that could be boxed up and categorized.    
  
Rachel was not someone who liked labels, which sort of understandable, because Rachel still tended to turn in her assignments as “Rachel Davies” rather than “Rachel Berry.”    
  
Quinn asked Rachel once, “ _do_  you like girls, guys or both?” and Rachel responded with a bright smile and a frustratingly coy reply: “I like  **you** .”   
  
They’d been dating for nearly a month and there was still no label attached to the two of them. Normally by now, Quinn had some type of commitment. Finn had been all too eager when she told him she was his girlfriend. But Rachel was maddeningly blasé about putting a label on things.   
  
“I made a mistake in rushing into things once,” Rachel explained when Quinn tried once to pressure Rachel into putting a label on things only a week into dating. “And I only like to make a mistake once. For now, let’s just say I’m courting you.”   
  
Quinn made a face. “And what do you call what I’m doing to you?”   
  
Rachel grinned. “Setting me on fire,” she murmured. “In a good way. I feel like I’m going to spontaneously combust. While I cannot say that I’d be agreeable with self-immolation, I do think it would be less painful if I were thinking of you.”   
  
Quinn couldn’t help but grin. “Dork.”   
  
Rachel laughed. “I’m courting you, and you’re wooing me. It’s all very cinematic.”   
  
“Yeah, yeah,” Quinn said grudgingly. “Whatever.”   
  
Rachel gave her a warm, sunny smile. “Seriously,” she said quietly. “Things are much less painful when I think of you.”   
  
Quinn swallowed hard. “ _Oh_ .”   
  
\--   
  
And now they were a month in and while Quinn accepted that Rachel could flutter through life without a label, Quinn really wanted one.   
  
“If I asked you to be my girlfriend, would you be my girlfriend?” Quinn pressed.   
  
Rachel didn’t hesitate. “Yes,” she said. “But why don’t we take things slow? Rushing into things ruined my relationship with Ray. It took us a long time before we could be friends again. I never want that to happen to us.”   
  
Part of it was that Quinn did want to put some official claim on Rachel, even if she couldn’t broadcast it. But mostly, she  _needed_  the label.   
  
Rachel was looking at her, her expression open and innocent. Quinn stared down at her lap and wished she had a way to put off this conversation for another day. She raised the camera in her lap and quickly snapped a picture of Rachel looking intently at her. But Rachel could smell a camera flash and Rachel had flashed a mega-watt smile just as Quinn pushed the shutter. Quinn would have to wait to see how the pictures turned out when she developed them, but she was annoyed that instead of the candid she’d hoped for, she’d likely have yet another picture of Rachel grinning dorkily into the camera.    
  
“Quinn!” Rachel griped, wincing. She rubbed at her eyes “You know how much I hate that flash,” she chided.”It is very bright.”   
  
“You’re going to have to get used to it if you want to be an actress,” Quinn pointed out, grinning.    
  
Rachel merely laughed in response.   
  
\--   
  
It was mid-May and they’d dated for a couple months when Rachel sat her down to ‘talk.’   
  
Quinn was instantly wary because these type of ‘talks’ never boded well for the person on the receiving end.   
  
“What’s up?” Quinn asked.   
  
“As you know, my old glee team has also made it to Nationals this year.”   
  
“Yeah,” Quinn said dryly. “I know, you’ve mentioned it about five million times.” Sometimes she wondered whose side Rachel was on with the way Rachel waxed rhapsodic about the previous eight consecutive wins of her old team. But Quinn also knew that Rachel liked to be on the winning side. Always.   
  
“Claire will be there,” Rachel said quietly. “And Ray will be there as well to see me.”   
  
“Okay...”   
  
“I know you know about Ray. He is my ex-boyfriend after all. But I felt I needed to be upfront with you about my relationship with Claire.”   
  
“Okay…”   
  
Rachel gave her a small smile. “Claire is very important to me. She’s my best friend.”   
  
“Yeah, I know.”   
  
Rachel took a deep breath. “Ilostmyvirginitytoher.”   
  
Quinn raised an eyebrow. “What?”   
  
“I lost my virginity to her,” Rachel muttered. “When we were fourteen, we got drunk on Boones and Schnapps and got overly sentimental listening to Third Eye Blind. And well, things progressed.”   
  
Quinn nodded. “Did you ever date her?”   
  
Rachel shook her head. “It was an isolated incident.”   
  
Quinn cleared her throat and she told herself  _not_  to laugh. “Well, that sounds like it was a good experience for you.”   
  
“It was,” Rachel said carefully. “I loved her very much. I was glad it was her, even if I wasn’t in love with her.”   
  
Quinn swallowed a laugh. “Boones and Schnapps, huh?”   
  
Rachel pouted. “It was all we could steal from her older brother.”   
  
“Are you sure it wasn’t her older sister?” Quinn snarked.   
  
Rachel looked disapproving. “Quinn.”   
  
“Sorry,” Quinn said. “It’s just… those are very girly drinks.”   
  
“We just wanted to drink.”   
  
“So what song was it?”   
  
“’The Background,’” Rachel said reluctantly.    
  
Quinn gaped at her. She wasn’t sure if she was thinking about the right song because that was a  _depressing_  song and not one she’d associate wanting to lose one’s virginity to. “Wait, the one that goes, ‘everything is quiet since you’re--’”   
  
“‘Not around, and I live in the numbness now, in the background,’ yes,” Rachel confirmed. “To this day, I hear that song and I get inappropriately…well, you know,” she said, blushing.   
  
Quinn couldn’t keep it in anymore. She burst into raucous laughter and could not catch her breath. She laughed so hard, her stomach hurt. If her first time hadn’t ended in an unwanted and unexpected pregnancy, Rachel’s first time story would have been the worst she ever heard because it was simply ridiculous-- the Boones, the Schnapps and Third Eye Blind. Good  _God_ .   
  
Rachel crossed her arms, her lower lip jutting out sullenly. “I’m glad my life is such fodder for your amusement.”   
  
Quinn fell off her chair and dropped to her knees, still laughing uncontrollably. She slapped her hand against the floor. “Oh my God, you guys were such nerds!”   
  
Rachel’s cheeks turned pink. “I have very fond memories of that night.”   
  
Quinn laughed even harder, and then tried to catch her breath. “I’m sorry,” she said contrite, crawling to where Rachel was seated in a chair. She pulled herself up to drape herself across Rachel. Quinn stayed on her knees but rested her arms on Rachel’s thighs. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have laughed.”   
  
Rachel smiled crookedly. “It  _is_  kind of hilarious.” She ran her fingers through Quinn’s hair. “I just wanted to make sure you knew. I didn’t want to keep that a secret. Such things have a way of blowing up in one’s face and I didn’t want that to happen to me. You’re important to me.”   
  
Quinn smiled. “You’re just trying to make me jealous,” she teased.   
  
Rachel gave her a tiny smile. “Please don’t ever be jealous of my best friend,” she pleaded quietly. “What I had with her was very…different.”   
  
There were times when Quinn was jealous of that life Rachel had to leave. But she knew she had Rachel  _now_  and that was just more important    
  
“Okay,” Quinn said. She paused. “Hey,” she murmured. “Want to put on some Third Eye Blind?”   
  
Rachel laughed and swatted at Quinn’s back.   
  
\--   
  
Thus far, their relationship hadn’t progressed much beyond making out and some heavy petting. Neither of them pushed for anything more and they each seemed content with what they had.    
  
But one night it became too much. It was dark in Quinn’s room and they were both sweaty and breathing heavily, their hair was mussed and their clothes were rumpled and in disarray.   
  
“I should really go,” Rachel whispered, her voice strangled as she tore her lips away from Quinn.   
  
“Nooo,” Quinn pleaded, nipping at Rachel’s neck. She grabbed the other girl and held on. “Don’t go, not yet.”   
  
Rachel swallowed hard. “Okay,” she said, her voice raspy. She allowed herself to be pulled down toward Quinn again. She covered Quinn’s mouth with her own and their tongues collided, pressing softly against one another before gaining rhythm   
  
Quinn’s knee pressed between Rachel’s legs eliciting a soft gasp from Rachel at the sudden, but very welcome pressure. Quinn swallowed hard as she felt the warmth soaking through Rachel’s underwear. There was wet warmth building between her own legs and it was making her increasingly uncomfortable.    
  
She used to have a policy about ‘teasing, but not pleasing,’ because she loved making boys as sexually frustrated as she was. She didn’t want to ‘please’ anyway because the idea of sex with a boy  _terrified_  her and she really didn’t want to. She looked at her experience with Puck as a lamentable mistake. In fact, she and Santana used to cackle about the blue balls she was giving boys, even though Santana told her she was lame for not doing something that felt so good. There’d been a drunken night when she idly wondered what happened to a sexually frustrated woman and Santana had immediately responded “purple clit” and they’d exploded into laughter. At the moment, all Quinn could think about was that she definitely had a purple clit.   
  
“Should we do this?” Rachel asked, her breathing unsteady and Quinn realized she’d unconsciously started humping Rachel like they were animals. Quinn would have been mortified for herself, except it felt really good and Rachel wasn’t complaining. There was a wet spot on Rachel’s thigh which Quinn was a little alarmed and embarrassed to realize came from  _her_  as she’d rubbed herself against Rachel.    
  
“Yeah,” Quinn whispered, her voice rough. Her panties were probably ruined and there was moisture coating the insides of her thighs. If they didn’t do this…Quinn didn’t even want to think about it.   
  
“Are you sure?”   
  
“Yeah,” Quinn said, her voice strangling when she felt Rachel cup her ass and give both cheeks a firm squeeze. “Are you sure? Do you want this?”   
  
Rachel merely grunted her assent before she kissed Quinn again.    
  
Quinn expected soliloquies-- Rachel was the most verbose person she knew. At the very least she thought she’d at least get a serenade. But they didn’t speak at all as they shed each other’s clothing although Quinn did feel the need to cover some of the stretch marks that were still on her stomach from the pregnancy. Rachel kissed each of Quinn’s hands and kissed Quinn’s belly.    
  
“You’re beautiful,” Rachel said, her voice almost gruff. “You don’t need to hide.” Her voice softened and took on a plea. “Please don’t hide from me.”   
  
Quinn took a deep breath and lifted her hands. She still felt a little hesitant, but she wasn’t embarrassed anymore. “Okay,” she said.    
  
\--


	7. Chapter 7

It wasn’t exactly what Quinn thought it would be, but in a good way. The way Santana and Brittany talked about sex made it seem loveless and raunchy, sort of a mechanical tab A into slot B sort of thing. Even when Santana and Brittany spoke about having sex with one another, they didn’t really talk about love or feelings or anything. Just that sex felt good.

Sex with Rachel felt good, but it wasn’t perfumed sheets and rhapsodic declarations of teenaged love. Quinn wasn’t even sure how people managed to _do_ that because when she was having sex with Rachel, she didn’t really _want_ to talk. And even if she had wanted to talk, she couldn’t get the words out. Even hyper-loquacious Rachel didn’t talk much during sex-- she primarily growled and grunted and released shuddered breaths so pleasured that Quinn felt a rush of cockiness right before she felt a gushing rush between her legs.

It was, at its core, completely unsanitary. It was wet, occasionally rough and her sheets and room took on a distinctive, though not unpleasant, smell. Rachel’s neck tasted like salt from her sweat.

Quinn was a neat-freak, as was Rachel, but neither of them seemed to care about cleanliness and or tidiness as they laid together, trying to catch their breaths. Rachel curled into Quinn once they were sufficiently cooled down and pressed her face into Quinn’s neck. She draped an arm across Quinn’s stomach.

“Are you okay?” Rachel asked quietly. She tenderly brushed some hair away from Quinn’s forehead.

Quinn smiled lazily. “Perfect.” She finally understood why Santana and Puck liked to have sex so much. She really hadn’t understood after her night with Puck, but she got it now. _God_ she was so gay. “Are you okay?” she asked solicitously. She _finally_ knew what it was like to care for someone more than she cared for herself and she wanted to be sure that Rachel felt as good right now as she did.

“I’m perfect, too,” Rachel assured. She snuggled into Quinn and they laid there together, not bothering to get redressed.

A few hours passed before Rachel groaned and sat up. “I should go,” she said softly.

“What? Why?” Quinn asked, fear suddenly knotting her stomach.

“My dads will freak out if I don’t come home, Quinn. You know, having been previously kidnapped and such.”

“Oh,” Quinn said deflating. “Do you have to? You can’t text them to tell them you’re going to sleep over here?”

“You know how my dads are about your mom.”

“Yeah, but she’s not even going to be here. She went to that conference in Chicago. Tell them you’re going to sleep over.”

“They’re not going to be _more_ comfortable knowing there is no adult supervision.”

Quinn didn’t say anything, but her face took on a distinctively glum expression.

Rachel hesitated. “I don’t want to get into it with my dads,” she said. “You know it’s still so awkward with them. I’m really trying not to upset them. I just want to stay out of their way until I get to college. I want them to like me, and I’m not so sure they do…”

Quinn deflated. She knew how oppressed Rachel felt at her house. Rachel wasn’t allowed to talk about mother in the house, or even have a picture of her displayed in her bedroom. And though Quinn could concede that Rachel’s dads were nice and polite to her, they had a very cutting manner when they told her to give their regards to their mother. With school and glee, Rachel typically got home around five, her fathers got home around eight, they had dinner and Rachel spent the rest of the night in her room. Quinn knew how uncomfortable Rachel was in her house and she didn’t want to make it worse for Rachel, but she really wished Rachel could stay the night.

“Okay,” Quinn said, unable to conceal her disappointment.

Rachel bit her lower lip. She was silent for a long time before she finally spoke. “I’ll text them,” she said quietly. She reached for her purse near her feet and Quinn had to admit she leered at the view. Rachel fired off a quick text and reclaimed her position next to Quinn. “I didn’t want to leave you either. This is where I want to be. With you.”

Quinn release a soft sigh, relieved.

\--

Quinn awoke the next morning, facing Rachel who was still sleeping. She couldn’t stop the smile from crossing her face. She reached up to poke her index finger into Rachel’s cheek to rouse her. Rachel’s eyes opened slowly and a slow smile spread across her face.

“Good morning,” Rachel drawled.

“I thought you got up at five every day,” Quinn accused with a smile. “What if my mom came home early and found us like this?”

“You locked your door, I assumed we were safe.” She paused. “Quinn Fabray, wipe that self-satisfied smile off your face, you look way too smug.”

Quinn grinned. “Hello, kettle. Pot calling. You’re black.”

Rachel’s fingers drifted up to her lips, as if she needed confirmation that she was smirking. Her smile became shy. “Oh,” she said softly. She released a soft giggle.

“We should get up,” Quinn murmured. “You really need a shower. You smell, Rachel.”

Rachel rolled her eyes. “You smell, too.”

Quinn kissed Rachel’s collarbone. “I’ll buy you breakfast,” she said quietly.

“It would be the customary thing to do,” Rachel agreed with a smile.

\--

Quinn couldn’t resist humming as she showered-- alone, sadly. Though Quinn was tempted to suggest it, she was even more terrified by what would happen if Rachel said yes. They’d seen each other naked, but showering together took on a whole other level of intimacy that Quinn wasn’t prepared to have yet. She doubted Rachel was ready for it either. But Quinn knew they’d get to that point one day and she wasn’t in a rush to force it.

But that didn’t mean she couldn’t think about it.

Rachel was showering in the en suite bathroom in the guestroom and Quinn smiled with self-satisfaction as she thought about Rachel, naked, soapy and wet.

\--

It was disturbing how adorable Rachel looked sitting across from her wearing a pair of borrowed shorts and a tank-top. Rachel initially tried to borrow a pair of pants, but they were all too long for her, a fact which Quinn couldn’t help but laugh uproariously about. She didn’t know what Rachel was expecting-- they had a six inch height difference, and Quinn was fairly certain Rachel was lying about being 5’2”-- Quinn truly believed it was closer to 5’1” or just 5 foot nothing.

Seeing Rachel in her borrowed clothing, Quinn felt an unexpected twinge of possessiveness and she realized how much Rachel meant to her. She didn’t want to dampen their good spirits, but she needed some clarity in their relationship.

“So…” Quinn said. “Planning on sleeping with anyone else?” she tried to keep her voice light, but Quinn inwardly winced at the haughty tone she took.

Rachel visibly recoiled and she self-consciously crossed one leg over the other, pulling them tightly against her body and making herself even smaller than usual. “I wasn’t planning to,” she said, her voice even, but her expression becoming wary. “Is that a concern of yours of something I would do? Or do you simply desire to see other people and that was your way of ascertaining if I felt the same?”

Rachel stared at her and Rachel face was blank and expressionless as she waited for Quinn’s response.

“I don’t want anyone else,” Quinn said lowly, glancing around to see if anyone was eavesdropping. No one was. “Do you?”

Rachel’s expression was still unreadable. “No,” she said, her tone short. She still eyed Quinn warily. “Was there something else?”

“So, are you my girlfriend now or what?” Quinn asked irritably.

Rachel blinked, clearly surprised. “Oh,” she said. “ _Oh_. Oh, Quinn, of course we are.”

“Because it’s something I want and you’re appeasing me? Or because you actually want to?”

Rachel smiled crookedly. “Because I actually want to.” She beamed at Quinn. “I want to,” she repeated. She lowered her head and gazed up at Quinn through her lashes. “I really want to kiss you right now,” she said lowly.

“Well, let me pay the bill and we can go back to my house,” Quinn murmured.

Rachel smiled. “Good idea.”

\--

Nationals arrived quickly and they flew to New York, thrilled at the prospect of winning.

Rachel was clearly nervous to go up against her old team from San Diego, and the brunette had confided in Quinn that she’d been tempted to go over the strengths and weaknesses of her old team in addition to comprehensive guide of their past performances, two of which she’d coordinated. But ultimately, Rachel just couldn’t do that to her old team-- it felt too unfair, and although she got some flak from most of New Directions, at one point or another--even from Mr. Schuester, Quinn supported Rachel all the way.

Ultimately, New Directions won fair and square and after Rachel exchanged hugs with her team, she ran straight to her old teammates and exchanged hugs with them. Somehow McKinley High broke the winning streak of Taft High and the McKinley team were gracious winners while the Taft team were gracious losers.

Quinn watched as Rachel hugged Claire ferociously and the two exchanged a quick, chaste peck on the lips before Rachel took Claire by the hand and dragged Claire toward Quinn.

\--

 

The McKinley and Taft teams got together for a celebratory meal after the performance, because they had Rachel in common.

Quinn had a glimpse of who Rachel had been before she arrived in Lima, and while Rachel wasn’t _that_ different, it was still surprising to see a different side of Rachel. She seemed so much more confident and happier around her old team, with people she’d grown up with. Quinn was a little jealous to see how these other people could bring out a side of Rachel that she couldn’t, but she was also glad she got to see it.

\--

Quinn, Rachel and Claire managed to get some time alone at the restaurant.

Rachel’s best friend was, disturbingly, even shorter than Rachel was. But she was also oddly intimidating.

Rachel went off in search of a restroom, leaving Claire and Quinn alone.

Quinn was exasperated by the way the other girl just stared.

“What?” she asked, irritated. “Is this your way of telling me if I hurt Rachel, you’re going to rearrange my face? Because just staring at me silently isn’t intimidating.”

“You’ve already hurt Rachel,” Claire said bluntly. “You told people her mother was a child molester and you called her a tranny. There were some other names, too, if I recollect correctly.”

Quinn flushed guiltily. “It won’t happen again.”

“Yeah, she told me it wouldn’t. I think she’s stupid, but you can’t control the actions of others.”

“So, what, you just wanted to let me know you don’t approve of me, so you’ll be watching me and if I hurt her again, you’ll rearrange my face?”

Claire made a face. “Do I look like a plastic surgeon to you? And Davies doesn’t care if I approve of someone she’s dating or not. You should have seen this orangutan, Scott Sheridan, that she had such a crush on. He was gross. And no, I wouldn’t raise a hand to you if you hurt her again. That’s not my way. This is a high school relationship. It’s not like you guys are married. If you hurt her, she’ll cry for a while, but ten years from now, she’ll still be my best friend and you’ll just be a bad choice she made. If you’re good to her, you and I are cool.”

“Oh,” Quinn said blankly. She thought for sure she was going to get that best friend speech, even before they all converged in New York City for Nationals, she’d expected to get the best friend speech. She was kind of surprised she wasn’t.

“But,” Claire continued. “If you do hurt her, you can expect yourself to suddenly be a member of the Communist party. They send you a membership card in the mail and everything. And you might find your name on a list of NAMBLA supporters. And you may or may not wake up and find that your tires have been cut up , the air let out and then refilled with concrete. And very possibly you might find that your car has been covered in the ingredients of a ham and cheese sandwich with extra mustard and cilantro mayo. Maybe.”

There it was. The speech. Not exactly in its usual form, but the speech nonetheless.

“Got it,” Quinn said dryly. “You’re afraid you can’t take me in a physical fight.”

Claire’s lips curled in amusement. “You might break my nose, but try running for a political office in another ten or fifteen years and see what happens when they dig up that you joined the Communist party and you support NAMBLA. And your car would never be the same. You won’t stand a chance of selling it.”

“Fair enough,” Quinn said. She wasn’t planning on running for political office, _ever_ , but she really believed the other girl would follow through with her treats. If the situations were reversed, she’d do the same.

\--  
After the Taft/McKinley dinner, Rachel, Quinn and Claire hung out in the hotel room that Rachel and Quinn were sharing with Brittany and Santana. Brittany and Santana’s whereabouts were unknown, but they were likely together. Claire brought her iPod and a small iPod speaker which was the size and shape of a cassette.

Quinn rifled through Claire’s iPhone, looking at the pictures of Rachel before she’d come to Lima. She wasn’t sure how to feel about Claire-- it was clear the other girl didn’t trust her and Quinn felt that was very dangerous. As cocky as she’d been with Claire earlier, Quinn knew that Claire’s opinions were important to Rachel. But having Claire present also meant she got to know a side of Rachel she typically didn’t have access to and also got a glimpse into Rachel’s past, which Rachel didn’t like to talk about very much.

Quinn laughed softly as she came across video footage of her clearly drunken girlfriend wearing a beer bong hat, a teeny pair of red shorts and a low cut white Taft High jersey with the number ‘23’ on the front and the name ‘Rayburn’ on the back. The jersey was clearly too big and had clearly been altered-- Quinn doubted it’d started out such a low-cut V neck, but she certainly appreciated the view. In the video, her girlfriend was loudly and obnoxiously singing ‘Birdhouse in Your Soul,’ complete with hand gestures. Rachel looked undeniably sexy in the video-- Quinn could see cleavage and Rachel’s belly and Rachel’s legs in those shorts looked delicious. Rachel’s hair was tousled, likely by the beer bong hat resting on her head. But the singing and gesturing in addition t the goofy faces Rachel was making as she mugged the camera made her look like an incredible dork.

Quinn knew she had to have it.

Quinn hooted laughter. “You have to send me this!” she pleaded with Claire.

Claire grinned. “Send it to yourself,” she said cheerfully.

“No!” Rachel cried, trying to reach for the phone.

Claire grabbed Rachel’s arms and held them down.

“Quick send it to yourself!” Claire said. “I won’t be able to hold her for much longer. She’s like an octopus!”

Quinn chuckled and quickly sent herself the video. “Done!”

Claire released Rachel, and Rachel glared at her best friend and then glared at her girlfriend before pouting mightily.

“Don’t you dare show that to anyone,” Rachel warned Quinn. “I was much younger then.”

“It was two months before she left,” Claire told Quinn.

Claire and Quinn burst into laughter while Rachel pouted darkly and muttered something about guillotines under her breath.

The song on the iPod shifted from a Lissy Trullie song to Sarah McLachlan’s ‘Angel.’ Quinn and Claire both reached out to hit ‘next,’ but Quinn was quicker.

Quinn smiled at Rachel. “That song makes you cry because of the ASPCA.”

Rachel smiled back. “Yeah.”

The small eyebrow quirk Claire directed at Rachel and the tiny shrug Rachel gave in return did not go unnoticed by Quinn.

\--

For Rachel’s sake, Quinn wished they had a little more time in New York together. Her girlfriend was clearly in love with the city. But a part of her was glad when they left because it was hard for her to see the way Rachel looked at Claire and the way Claire looked back at Rachel. It wasn’t like she saw any desire there, but there was _definite_ love, and Rachel had once described Claire as “the love of my life.” That wasn’t something Quinn could accept _that_ easily. She’d come a long way in the selflessness department, but not _that_ far.

When Rachel watched her old friends walk into their terminal, she looked a little lost and forlorn.

“I’m sorry, baby. I know you miss them,” Quinn whispered, squeezing Rachel’s shoulder gently.

“I know that’s not my life anymore. But sometimes it’s hard for me to accept. I really miss it,” Rachel said weakly.

“Sorry,” Quinn said quietly.

“It’s okay,” Rachel said softly. “There are things about my life now that I really like. Like you,” Rachel murmured. She smiled wryly. “Mostly just you.” Her eyes passed over Quinn’s shoulder and the blonde turned to look to see Mike twirl Tina around before hugging her around the waist. He stopped when he saw them and waved. They waved back. “Well, not just you,” Rachel amended, because she truly did love her friends. “But mostly you.”

Quinn smiled. On a list of things that made her life good in Lima, Rachel really was at the top. Mostly, that list was Rachel.

\--

Quinn couldn’t believe how much had changed in just a year. Last year, she’d had a baby, given the baby away and then heard her childhood best friend, the one long presumed dead, had been found alive and well. Their relationship didn’t get off to the start she wanted, but she had Rachel’s forgiveness and she felt so lucky to have it.

She never really believed she could ever be so lucky. She knew that in many ways, she was blessed. She was pretty, young, healthy and from a financially secure family. It’s not like she had much right to complain. But she never really felt _lucky_. Luck seemed relegated to lotto winners and people like Kurt, who, despite being bullied all the time had the most amazingly supportive father, so _clearly_ he was going to end up fine.

Luck did not seem like something she’d ever have, until she met Rachel again.

She’d spent most of last summer working out like crazy to lose the baby weight and banish thoughts of the baby she’d given up. She also spent it searching for Rachel, whom she knew was in town, but had neither seen nor heard a glimpse of.

This summer, she had Rachel hanging on her arm, laughing in her ear, kissing her lips and sleeping in her bed.

She felt lucky. So lucky.

\--

Rachel was in tears when she showed up at Quinn’s house one evening. It was a hot June night and she’d only seen her girlfriend a few hours before. They’d spent the entire day together, enjoying summer vacation which was still in its earliest stages. School only got out a few earlier.

“Rachel? What’s wrong?” Quinn asked, alarmed. She’d never actually seen her girlfriend this upset before.

Rachel reached for her, her arms beckoning desperately, seeming to beg for closeness.

Quinn held Rachel tightly. “Did something happen?”

Rachel didn’t respond. She buried her face into Quinn’s neck.

“Okay, okay,” Quinn said softly. She shut the door and pulled Rachel inside. She managed to lead Rachel up to her room. “What’s going on?” she asked when they were safely in her room. She sat down on the bed, her back resting against the headboard and pulled Rachel toward her, hugging her close. They were sitting back-to-front and Quinn held Rachel tightly, her arms circling her girlfriend’s waist from behind. Rachel cuddled into her and sighed softly.

“I had a fight with my dads,” Rachel said quietly.

Quinn glanced at the clock. It was only six. “They’re home early,” she commented. Lately, Rachel’s fathers were getting home later and later-- they were apparently reverting back to the schedule they kept before Rachel came home.

“Yeah,” Rachel whispered..

“What did you fight about?”

Rachel paused, her face trembling slightly. She clenched and unclenched her fists. “My mom,” she admitted. “Today’s the year anniversary of…” her voice trailed off. “You know.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Quinn asked, holding Rachel tighter. They’d passed the day like it was any other day. She’d sensed Rachel was a little off, but it was hard to identify what was off, and Rachel had insisted she was fine. “I would have…I don’t know, done something.”

Rachel’s lower lip quivered. “They _hate_ her,” Rachel whispered. “And I understand why. I don’t blame them, but she was still my mom and I…” her voice cracked. “I really miss her. I didn’t grow up with a dad, so I didn’t grow up feeling like I really needed one. My mom always tried to be enough. I mean, I remember sometimes wishing I had a dad, but it wasn’t constant or anything. It feels amazing having two dads, it really does. It’s made not having my stepfather around that much easier. But I also _really_ miss having a mom.”

“I’m sorry, Rach,” Quinn said quietly.

“This day was so hard for me,” Rachel said. “I missed her so much. We had dinner together and I thought that was a nice gesture. We talked a little bit about her at dinner and they were respectful. I thought maybe they…had enough time now where they kind of forgave her. They told me a little bit about why those chose her in the first place and it felt amazing. I mean, I feel like I never really knew my mom because of…of…” her voice halted. “Because of what she did,” Rachel said glumly. “So it felt good to hear them talk about the reasons they wanted her to be my mom in the first place because I _saw_ that about her. When we got home, I was in a really good mood. I still missed my mom, but I really appreciated how my dads were so sensitive about it. I really thought…” her voice became wobbly. “I really thought they understood me. I went to thank them. But when I went, I heard them talking in their bedroom. They didn’t know I could hear them, at least, I don’t think they knew.” Rachel swallowed hard. “Quinn, they were _laughing_ and high-fiving. They were making fun of her.” Rachel’s eyes welled with tears and she wiped them away. “They were _laughing_.”

“Crap,” Quinn said quietly. She understood where Rachel’s fathers were coming from, but she couldn’t help shake her head at the poor taste they exhibited.

The tears began to fall copiously. “I totally lost it,” Rachel whispered. “I barged in on them and just started screaming at them.”

Quinn winced sympathetically. “Well, it’s understandable you’d be upset. She’s your mom.”

Rachel sniffled and nodded. “I said some really horrible things,” she whispered. “Really unacceptable things.”

“Like what?” Quinn asked gently.

Rachel began to sob and shook her head, her face reddening with shame.

It took a while for Rachel to calm down enough to speak.

“It was so bad. I was so disrespectful. It’s just that I was so angry.”

“You had a right to be angry,” Quinn said quietly. She held Rachel close. “What happened?” she repeated gently. “What did you say to them?”

Rachel bit her lower lip guiltily. “That I hated them for bringing me here and that I hated it here. That I’m _miserable_ here and they don’t even care. That they may have paid for me, but my mother _raised_ me and so they weren’t actually really my dads. That if they cared even a little bit about me, they’d let me go back to my stepdad’s.”

“Oh.” Quinn whispered shakily. Hearing Rachel recount that was like a blow to her stomach, so she could only imagine how Rachel’s fathers must have felt. _Was_ Rachel that unhappy here? She’d really thought she and Rachel were happy…

“So my dad, he got mad and told me to apologize. But I refused and told him I meant it-- that they weren’t my dads and if anything, _Rob_ was my dad, because at least he raised me for three years.” Rachel paused to rub at her eyes. “He lost his temper. So after he slapped me, I left and--”

“Wait,” Quinn interrupted. “You dad hit you?!” she asked outraged. She maneuvered herself out from underneath Rachel so she could look at her girlfriend. “He hit you!? Where?”

“Quinn, it’s not a big deal. I deserved it. I can’t speak to him like that. I would have slapped me, too. I deserved worse.”

“Where did he hit you?!” Quinn demanded.

Rachel sighed and rolled her eyes. She pointed to her right cheek, which was, in fact, very red, but Quinn had just assumed it was because Rachel was crying.

“Quinn, I deserved it.”

“No, you didn’t!” Quinn exclaimed, enraged. “He should have been more understanding! He was high-fiving your other dad! On the year anniversary of your mother’s death! That’s so wrong!”

“I was still wrong to say those things to them,” Rachel said quietly. “But I was _furious_ so I left. And I just…I wanted to see you.”

“I’m sorry, baby,” Quinn said softly, pulling Rachel into another tight hug.

Rachel held onto Quinn and rested her chin on the blonde’s shoulder. “I’d be so much happier here if they didn’t openly hate her so much,” she whispered. “I understand why, I really do. But she was a good mom. You have _no_ idea.”

“I’m sorry, baby,” Quinn repeated softly.

“Can I stay here for a while?” Rachel asked quietly. “I’m _livid_ and I’m sure they are, too. I think we need some time apart to cool-off.”

“Of course you can. You don’t have to ask.”

Rachel gave her a small smile. “I should text my dads to let them know though,” she said quietly. “I didn’t tell them where I was going when I left. I’m not ready to go back yet, but I need to let them know. You know how they are if they don’t know where I am.”

“Okay,” Quinn said. “You do that. I’ll give you some privacy. I’ll go downstairs and get you a glass of water, okay?”

Rachel gave her a lopsided smile. “Thanks.”

\--

Rachel spent a few hours with Quinn, but she ultimately decided to go home. She was back at Quinn’s house the next day, and it was like nothing even happened.

“We’re fine now, we talked,” Rachel said with a small smile when Quinn finally asked point-blank if everything was okay because she was a little creeped out by how blasé Rachel was when she’d been so upset the night before.

Quinn wanted to address it, but she found that words failed her.

\--

It put a damper on things, but not for very long.

\--

They spent the next few weeks, enjoying the summer. They went to parties, barbeques and bonfires at the beach. They wiled away entire days doing nothing except taking turns dozing in each other’s laps. They spent a week at Brittany’s family’s beach house and slept all week together in a hammock. They had loads of drunken sex. They took road trips for no reason, despite the high gas prices and sang along to songs on the radio. When the repetition of songs became tedious, they slipped in mix CDs they’d made for one another.

Quinn knew summer always gave way to fall, but she wished her life could always be this way.

She was happy. She felt blessed. She felt lucky.

Which was why she was completely blindsided when Rachel showed up early one morning in early September, just a couple weeks before they were due to go back to school to announce she was moving back to San Diego.

“My dads are letting me go back to San Diego. They’re giving my stepdad temporary legal guardianship. I want to go, Quinn,” Rachel said quietly. “I’m so sorry. I tried to stay here because of you, but I want to go.”

Quinn desperately wanted to shut the door in Rachel’s face to just make it go away. If she just shut the door and went to bed, it would all better in the morning. But instead, she opened the door and gestured for Rachel to enter.

\--

The one thing Rachel wanted to make clear to Quinn was that she’d been unhappy for a long time, and the only thing that had brought her even a moment of happiness was being with Quinn.

“I’m not happy here,” Rachel said quietly.

“You’re just _depressed_ ,” Quinn cried. “You never went to therapy after your mom died! And you haven’t been to therapy with your dads. If you just tried that--”

“I’ve been going to family counseling with my dads for most of the summer,” Rachel said quietly. “It’s why I can’t hang out after five on Thursdays.”

“You said it was just the day your dads made you agree you’d have dinner with them every week,” Quinn accused.

“We do,” Rachel said. “After therapy. We’ve even talked about my mom a little bit.” She sighed. “I’m not depressed, Quinn. I was for a while after my mom died and after I came here, but I’m not depressed, I’m just not happy here. I don’t like living here. I feel like a _freak_ here. People still stare at me all the time.”

“But I thought things are better now.”

“They’re way better now than they were a year ago,” Rachel conceded. “But I’m so unhappy here. I _love_ you guys-- you and Mike and Tina and everyone. My dads. I love _you_. So much. You’re the only person who’s brought me any real... _joy_ while I’ve been here. But I just…I can’t spent another year here. I can’t. My dads and I agreed in June-- after that big fight we had, that I’d give it another shot and really make a sincere effort at it. I’ve _tried_ , but I just don’t fit here. I’m not happy. The only reason I’d stay is because of you.”

“And I’m not enough,” Quinn said dully.

“You are,” Rachel corrected softly. “I thought about staying. Only because of you. But Quinn, that’s just way too much pressure for you.”

“I can handle it,” Quinn snapped. “Who are you to say it’s too much for me?”

“I can’t have my happiness hinge on you,” Rachel said quietly. “It needs to hinge on me. I can’t make you happy if I’m unhappy, and I so desperately want to make you happy.”

“You _do_ make me happy,” Quinn said, pleadingly.

“I’m sorry,” Rachel whispered. “I just…I can’t be here.”

“Is this what this summer has been for you?” Quinn demanded, her voice rising. “What was this? A game for you? An experiment? How could you do this to me?! Do you know what you’re doing to me?!”

Rachel swallowed hard. “Baby,” she whispered, reaching for Quinn.

Quinn shrank away, taking a few steps back. “Don’t ‘baby’ me!” She hissed. “You’ve known all summer you were leaving. You _never_ intended to stay. You’ve been _playing_ me!”

“That’s not true!” Rachel protested. “I was trying to _fit_ here and just get over everything. But this isn’t the place for me!”

“You knew you were leaving!” Quinn shouted, sobbing. “You knew! You played me!”

Rachel was leaving and now she was going to have a gaping, Rachel Berry-sized hole in her heart.

“It wasn’t like that,” Rachel said meekly. “I was trying--”

Quinn steeled herself. “Get out of my house.”

“Quinn, please. I’m sorry. I didn’t want it to go like this. Please, just let me explain. I’ve clearly done a terrible job, but if you just give me a--”

Quinn grabbed Rachel by the arm and began shoving Rachel out of her room. “Get out! Get out!”

“Quinn--” Rachel tried to turn around and struggled to stay in place.

“I said get out, Tranny!” Quinn shouted, shoving Rachel as hard as she could. “Leave me alone! Get out!”

“Quinn,” Rachel said softly. “Please, let’s talk about this.”

“You’ve already said everything you needed to say, RuPaul. I don’t want to hear it! Get out of my room! Get out of my house!” Quinn managed to shove Rachel to the door-- the little midget was surprisingly strong when she was trying to stand her ground. She opened her door and shoved Rachel out the door. Rachel stumbled slightly and Quinn took that time to slam her door shut and lock it. Quinn sank to the floor, rested her back against the door, pulled her knees up to her chest and buried her head in her hands. She knew Rachel could hear her wailing, but she didn’t care. She knew they hadn’t even been going out _that_ long, but it felt like her life was over. She felt so betrayed.

Rachel knocked on the door. “Quinn?” she said softly. “Baby, I know you’re angry. But please. I don’t…I don’t want to leave you like this. Can’t you open the door and talk to me?”

“Fuck you, Treasure Trail!” Quinn screamed. “You think you meant something to me? Well, you didn’t! I’m glad you’re leaving! Since you’re leaving anyway, you can start by leaving my house! Get out!”

“Quinn, baby--”

“Go the hell!” Quinn screamed. “Get out of my house! Get out! Get out!” Quinn knew her voice was becoming increasingly raw.

“I would never have been able to make you happy for long,” Rachel said softly. “I would have made you so unhappy eventually. Even unhappier than you are right now. I was going to bring you down. I could feel it. I was beginning to crack and there was only so much longer I was going to be able to hold it together. I didn’t want to pull you down with me, but I knew I was going to. I’m sorry, baby. If I--”

“Are you deaf? Get out!”

“I’m sorry I hurt you,” Rachel said quietly. “It was the last thing I ever wanted to do to you. I used to see your face in my dreams, you know. When I was younger, even before I came back here. I used to see you in my dreams. That first day of school in the choir room? I didn’t remember you, exactly, but I knew it was you. You’re my dream girl. It’s kind of why I believed my mom so readily that everything about this place was a dream when I’d ask her about it.” She laughed softly and Quinn could tell that Rachel was crying as well. “You’re my dream girl, Quinn,” Rachel said quietly. “How could you ever think I’d want to hurt or disappoint my dream girl this badly? But this is just something I need to do. I need to get out of here to preserve my own sanity.”

“Go to hell,” Quinn whispered hoarsely. She covered her ears from hearing anything more Rachel had to say. “Go to hell. Go back to your stupid life. I hope you’re miserable.”

It’s not like Rachel was being forced to leave. She wasn’t being sent away. She was choosing to leave.

She was choosing this. Rachel was choosing to hurt her.


	8. Chapter 8

 

  
Rachel hoped that eventually Quinn would calm down and talk to her, but it didn’t seem like the blonde would forgive her any time soon. Rachel understood how betrayed Quinn must have felt, but she still wished for Quinn’s forgiveness.   
  
It didn’t come.   
  
There was a small going away party for her at Mr. Schuester’s apartment with all the glee kids, followed by an afterparty at Noah’s, where it was pretty much the same people, minus Mr. Schuester. Quinn appeared at neither of these.    
  
Rachel sent Quinn countless texts and emails, in addition to phone calls and showing up at Quinn’s door. But she was ignored and when it was time to leave, she still hadn’t seen or heard from Quinn.   
  
She gave Quinn her flight information and convinced herself that Quinn would see her off at the house before she left for the airport the way Mike and a smattering of their friends did, but Quinn didn’t.   
  
She hugged each of her fathers at the airport.    
  
“I’m sorry,” she whispered quietly. “I love you both. It’s just…”   
  
“This wasn’t your home anymore,” one of them sighed mournfully, finishing her thought.    
  
She hated herself for doing this. But she needed to do this for herself. She was so miserable in this town and even being in love didn’t change that. Sometimes, she’d doubted her love for Quinn because she’d always thought when she fell in love, she’d be happy and everything bad wouldn’t seem so bad. But it wasn’t like that-- she was still unhappy, it was just that now she had someone she wanted to be happy for, but couldn’t manage to do it.    
  
She gave each of her fathers a sad smile. She felt so terrible for not being a good enough daughter, for failing them so completely. She wished they’d just forgotten about her, that they’d adopted a baseball team’s worth of multi-ethnic children or paid a harem of surrogates to deliver as many babies as possible.  _Anything_  other than mourning her loss for eleven years.   
  
“Can’t you guys move to San Diego with me?”Rachel asked, tearing up. She really had come to love her fathers, but she just didn’t feel connected enough to them to stay in Lima.   
  
They each laughed softly, but neither responded and she knew their lives were in Lima. Rachel glanced around, still hoping to catch a glimpse of Quinn, maybe even running into the terminal. But once she passed through security, she knew it was too late. Their relationship had been the stuff of movies, but even they couldn’t beat the TSA.    
  
\--   
  
Her stepfather greeted her at the airport. Claire was standing at his side.   
  
Rachel’s eyes welled with tears, because she really did feel like she was home. She almost wished she could feel as out of place here as she felt in Lima, so she could tell herself it was just her damn problem and get back on that plane and get back to Lima, Quinn and her fathers. But no, it felt like home. Even though she hadn’t been back in over a year and she was in a flipping airport, she still felt like home. This was where she belonged.   
  
\--   
It was sad, really, how easy it was to get back into a routine she hadn’t lived for more than a year.   
\--   
  
She’d been living with her stepfather again for four weeks when she finally couldn’t stop herself from asking.    
  
“Why didn’t you and my mom have kids?”   
  
Rob looked at her. “When I first met your mother, she told me she didn’t want any more kids and that you were all she wanted and needed and if I wanted someone to give me a kid, I’d have to look somewhere else.”   
  
Rachel grinned. “That’s totally something my mom would say,” she agreed.   
  
“I was okay with it, but we were together for a while and I brought it up again. Your mom…she said you were her last and only chance at having a biological child. She mentioned she had an infection and she found out you were going to be her last.”   
  
Rachel swallowed hard. “Do you think that’s why she took me?”   
  
“I’ve thought about that,” Rob said softly. “And we know now that she lost both her parents not long before she took you. She must have felt very alone. But I think….it was just too hard for her to walk away from you. It doesn’t excuse her actions, but I don’t think she was able to take it any longer. She could never stand to be away from you and I think being away from you just got to be too hard for her. I had to walk away from you last year and it almost killed me. You’re a great kid, Rach. It’s not easy to give you up.”   
  
“She stole me.” Rachel said quietly. “I hate her for that. I don’t understand how she could have done that to my fathers. She  _knew_  them.”   
  
“Sometimes, I hate her, too,” he admitted. “But then I wouldn’t have you for my daughter.”   
  
Rachel swallowed hard. “Thank you for letting me come home.”   
  
“Thank you for coming home.”   
  
\--   
  
Rachel found it difficult to know how much space to give Quinn. Of course the blonde was fuming, but Rachel didn’t want to just walk away like a dog with its tail between its legs. She didn’t want to just let Quinn go. Not without a fight. She couldn’t go down like that. But she also understood that Quinn might have a very real need for space and she wanted to respect that.   
  
She sent a few texts and emails a few times a week and she called at least once every other week. She didn’t want to be a  _stalker_ .   
  
She was getting back into the rhythm of her life.   
  
She grew up in this town, and while it wasn’t perfect and people did stare and whisper behind her back, at least it wasn’t  _everyone_ . In Lima, more people than not stared at her. Here, the people who stared were way outnumbered by the people who felt she wasn’t  _that_  special. She was never super popular, at least, not on top of the food chain like Quinn was at McKinley, but she had her group of friends here and she didn’t feel like such a freak.   
  
Still she missed her friends back at McKinley. She missed her fathers. She missed Quinn. But she didn’t miss feeling unhappy. She didn’t miss how awkward she felt as she walked the halls of McKinley, even with a friend or her girlfriend at her side. She didn’t miss how uncomfortable she felt in her own home. She didn’t miss being the town freak.    
  
She wanted everyone’s forgiveness-- she knew she was being selfish, but she needed to have come back. After just a couple hours back in San Diego, she already felt comfortable in her own skin again. There wasn’t a period of adjustment. She just resumed her life from where she left off and she had to admit, that made dealing with losing Quinn a little easier.   
  
\--   
  
Two months passed when her phone rang. Her heart soared when she realized it was Quinn. She’d never let go of her phone with her San Diego phone number-- her stepfather never switched it off. When she’d left Lima, she tried to return the iPhone her fathers bought her, because she didn’t feel like she deserved it, but they’d gently told her to keep it. They shut off service to the phone, but she simply switched over her San Diego number to the phone. She talked to her fathers pretty regularly-- strangely enough, it was easier to talk to them over the phone than it had been in person.    
  
She’d given all her friends in Lima her cell phone number and so far, they’d each at least texted her. She’d enclosed her number with each email she sent Quinn in case the blonde was deleting her emails without reading them, but this was the first time she had any inkling that Quinn wanted to talk to her.   
  
“Hi,” Rachel said softly. “I’m so glad you called.”   
  
“Hi,” Quinn said quietly.   
  
“How have you been? Are you okay?”   
  
“Yeah, fine,” Quinn said. “You?”   
  
“I’m well, thank you.”   
  
“Are you  _happy_  there?” Quinn asked, her tone biting.   
  
Rachel swallowed hard. “I miss you,” she said softly.   
  
Quinn was silent for a long moment. “Then come home,” she said finally, her voice wavering.    
  
“Quinn,” Rachel said gently. “I…”   
  
“Forget it,” Quinn snapped.   
  
It was quiet again and Rachel wondered if this was how it was going to be between them now. Rachel wasn’t sure what she was supposed to say.   
  
“Sorry,” Quinn said finally, breaking the uncomfortable silence. “I’ve missed you.”   
  
Rachel’s eyes welled with tears. “I never wanted to hurt you,” she said softly. “I just…I never really felt like I belonged there. I just didn’t fit.”   
  
“But you had glee! You fit. Just come home. I bet Sylvester would let you join the Cheerios and then you’d have another thing to be a part of. You don’t take up much space, so you’d be really easy to toss in the air.”   
  
“I don’t want to be shot out a cannon or thrown in the air,” Rachel said quickly.   
  
“It was just a suggestion,” Quinn sulked. “I know how much you like to win. We can find you something else to join.”   
  
Rachel smiled. “It’s not like that,” she whispered. “It’s not about finding an activity to be a part of. I just…I couldn’t fit there, Quinn. I never really felt like I belonged there, unless I was with you. I thought if I just smiled long enough and put one foot in front of the other, I’d actually  _want_  to do it. But the more time I spent there, the harder it was to force my eyes open and get out of bed.”   
  
“So I never made you happy,” Quinn said despondently. “What were you even doing with me?” she asked dejectedly.    
  
“I was happy,” Rachel said. “Of course you made me happy. But it got to a point that practically the only time I was happy was around you. I was never happy on my own. And I needed to be. I’ve always been happy, even when I was by myself. And I don’t mean single-- I mean, I’ve always just kind of been content and happy with my life and even when I was alone, lonely or single, there was still a part of me that felt all right. The whole time I was living there, I felt like I was drowning. I was the elephant and Lima was the La Brea Tar Pit.”   
  
“I’m not sure what that’s supposed to mean,” Quinn said. “The La Brea Tar Pit thing.”   
  
“It’s in Miracle Mile and--” Rachel trailed off. “Never mind. We’re getting tangential. Basically, I just felt like I was drowning.”   
  
“Why didn’t you say anything?” Quinn whispered. “You never told me any of this.”   
  
“I wanted to be better,” Rachel said, and she wiped at her eyes and rubbed the back of her hand across her nose. “I just couldn’t be though.”   
  
“Where does this leave us?”   
  
“Where do you want it to leave us?”   
  
“I’m not going to do this long distance,” Quinn said bluntly. “I’m not going to stay here and worry about all the people you’re…” she trailed off. “I can’t be jealous like that all the time. I’m not going to be able to handle it.”   
  
“I…I’m not  _looking_  at anyone else,” Rachel said quietly. “I still want you.”   
  
“I can’t do it,” Quinn said quietly. “You’re too far away. I need you  _here_ .”   
  
“So that’s it?” Rachel asked softly. “We’re done?”   
  
“ _You_  left,” Quinn reminded, sharply.   
  
“Okay,” Rachel said meekly. “I’m sorry. I know I was being absurd for even…I’m just so sorry, Quinn.”   
  
“Yeah,” Quinn said darkly. “Me too.” She sighed. “So is everything okay over there?”   
  
“Um…” Rachel hesitated. She didn’t think Quinn would allow herself to care anymore.   
  
You’re still my friend,” Quinn said grudgingly. “We were friends before we were girlfriends. I’m allowed to still care about you. So is everything okay?”   
  
“Everything is good,” Rachel said softly. “Thanks.”   
  
“Thanks for all the detail,” Quinn said dryly. “Are we starting from square one, just because you moved again?”   
  
Rachel laughed. “I rejoined my old glee team. I’m not the captain anymore, but that’s okay. This is my last year and Robyn’s a junior, so it will be good for the team to have some consistency from year to year. And I rejoined my old dance team, too. It’s…nice, Quinn.”   
  
Rachel tried not to sound too excited by how well her life was going because she didn’t want to hurt Quinn even further, but she was also fairly certain Quinn could hear it in her voice.   
  
“Well,” Quinn said softly. “I’m glad.”   
  
“I’m so sorry I hurt you,” Rachel said quietly. “I never wanted to do that to you. I really did just need to leave.”   
  
“Okay,” Quinn said softly. “I get it.” She paused. “Were you just with me to pass the time? Your dads were making you stay the summer to try it out, right? So is that why you were with me?”   
  
“God,” Rachel breathed. “ _No_ , of course not. I love you. I never wanted you to get hurt. And my dads didn’t make me stay the summer. They said they preferred it if I did, but if I really felt that miserable, I could go back. I stayed the summer because I kept hoping something in me would change and I’d somehow find the fortitude to just be happy with what I had instead of missing what I lost.”   
  
Quinn sighed. “I wish you’d been upfront with me from the beginning.”   
  
“I’m so sorry, Quinn,” Rachel said quietly. “I’ve always just held onto things too much. I’ve never really been a fan of change. And sometimes I want things so much, I sabotage myself. When I was there, I wanted to come back here so badly that nothing, not even falling in love with someone as wonderful as you would have made it work.”   
  
Quinn sniffled. “Come home,” she pleaded. “ _Please_  come home. I’ll make it work somehow. Lima isn’t that bad.”   
  
“I’ve thought a lot about it,” Rachel admitted. “I  _miss_  you. But I…”   
  
“You’re happier there.”   
  
Rachel sighed. Why did she have to be so ashamed of her own happiness? “I’m sorry.”   
  
“Don’t be sorry,” Quinn muttered. “I want you to be happy. I’m mad at you and I still hate you a little, but I want you to be happy.”   
  
“Thank you,” Rachel said softly.    
  
They talked for a little longer and Rachel remembered why she fell for Quinn so hard in the first place. Quinn frequently lashed out when she was hurt, but Quinn couldn’t hide the good person she actually was. Quinn was such a guarded person and Rachel felt blessed to have known who Quinn truly was.    
  
Rachel wasn’t an inherently guarded person-- that came after the discovery of how she came to live with her mother. Finding out that her mother had  _stolen_  her took away any ability to trust that she’d possessed. She found herself liking people, but being unable to trust them, at least, not completely. But somehow Quinn got past all that-- something Rachel had no idea could happen considering how much she’d initially despised Quinn.   
  
Rachel wished she could have it all-- she wished she could have her fathers  _and_  her stepfather. She wanted the life that she knew: the familiar faces and places. And she wanted Quinn, too.    
  
But she knew some of the things she wanted were mutually exclusive and she had to choose the thing that made her happiest. Quinn made her happy, but Rachel didn’t think she’d survive Lima long enough to be happy with Quinn. At least here, Rachel held onto hope that she and Quinn could be together again one day, maybe in college.    
  
\--   
  
The home she shared with her stepfather was filled with her mother’s things and pictures from their lives together. Rachel found herself constantly staring at her mother’s pictures and rifling through her mother’s things on a nearly daily basis, for hours at a time. She wasn’t sure what she was doing, searching for answers maybe. When her mother died, she just kept staring at her mother’s pictures and watching old video footage of her mother in an effort to hold onto her.    
  
But after the kidnapping was discovered, she never had a chance to search for answers as to her mother’s motives-- within days she was deposited with her fathers and no one wanted to tell her about her mother.    
  
Now that she was back, she was trying to do as much as she could to find some answers or at least get  _some_  insight into who her mother was, because clearly, she’d never actually known.   
  
She listened to her mother’s album collection and imagined her mother buying them and listening to them. She tried to search for any hint that her mother was capable of kidnapping by glancing through her mother’s bookshelves. Did her mother’s interest in weepy mother-daughter stories like  _The Joy Luck Club_  indicate something dark, or did it just mean her mother liked sentimental writers and maudlin plots?   
  
She spent her year in Lima trying to understand her mother and now that she was back in San Diego, back in her  _home_ , she kept hoping maybe she’d find a letter or a journal or something written by her mother to  _explain_  everything. Something like, ‘Dear Baby, I did kidnap you and there’s no excuse for what I did, but I had my reasons. Here they are…’   
  
She wanted the metaphorical smoking gun to give her a definitive answer.    
  
That’s where Rachel found herself blocked. She had no idea why her mother took her. And she knew the likelihood of finding a letter written by her mother to explain her actions was next to nil. The gratifying experience of finding a letter like that only happened in movies or in books. She’d already had the unlikely experience of finding out she was kidnapped, it just made it statistically improbable she’d find something that would make her mother’s actions make sense.    
  
\--   
  
Even though Rachel went back to her life and it was almost exactly the way it was before, she had answers to look for, and she couldn’t stop just because it was unlikely she’d find them.   
  
“Listen, Nancy Drew, stop the sleuthing already,” Claire told her. “You’re not going to figure anything out. It’s not like your mom left a paper trail. She changed your names and got fake social security numbers even though she wasn’t a suspect when you were missing. She wanted to disappear. She never meant for any of this to come out and you’re never going to find what you’re looking for, so just  _stop_ , Kim Possible.”   
  
“Does that make you Ron Stoppable?”   
  
“I think that makes her the hairless mole,” Quinn cracked when Rachel complained to her about it later.   
  
Rachel laughed. “You’re so bad.”   
  
“But I think she’s right,” Quinn said softly. “I don’t think you’re going to find what you’re looking for. You’re just going to get hurt.”   
  
She didn’t want to accept that Quinn was right. She wasn’t ready to give up, but Quinn sounded distressed and Rachel just wanted to stop causing at least one person she loved so much pain.   
  
“Okay,” Rachel acquiesced. And she could admit to herself that she had become a little too obsessive about it.   
  
“I still care about what happens to you,” Quinn admitted grudgingly. “I don’t want you to get hurt. Please, Rachel. The only person who could ever give you the answers you’re looking for is your mom and she’d gone. Anything you find, you’re going to either misinterpret or catastrophize. You need to give this up.”   
  
Rachel sighed shakily. “I know,” she said softly. “It’s just…” her voice broke. “My mom was everything to me. And now I don’t know her. Everything I ever knew was a lie.”   
  
She knew, of course, she was just living the lie again. But the lie was comforting.    
  
“Baby,” Quinn said softly. “Please. Don’t do this. I’m begging you to stop.”   
  
Rachel suppressed a sob. She didn’t understand anything in her life anymore. She’d been lost since her mother died, but the day she found out her mother wasn’t who she thought she was, her world was turned upside down and no matter what she did, she still felt lost and she still couldn’t make her world feel rightside up.    
  
“I’ll stop,” Rachel promised, because she knew Quinn was right.    
  
Everyone she loved most told her to give up, so she did.    
  
And she had to admit, she felt better after she did.    
\--   
  
She and Quinn spoke regularly and constantly. Nothing between them really changed, except for the fact they were so far away from one another, which was not exactly a small thing.   
  
But then one day, over a series of weeks, she started to notice Quinn pulling away- - their phone calls became fewer and when they did speak, Quinn seemed… distant. Rachel tried not to be paranoid about it because they were so far apart,  _of course_  things couldn’t stay the same. They weren’t even together anymore, but having Quinn to talk to meant so much to her. It felt like Quinn was keeping something from her and she knew she had no right to feel that way, but she did. When she left Lima, she knew the consequence of leaving could be losing Quinn. But she hadn’t been ready to let Quinn go.   
\--   
  
It was Kurt, always a bit of a gossip, who casually broke the news that Quinn was dating Noah again. Rachel made sure her reaction was as blasé as possible. Kurt couldn’t possibly have known that she and Quinn once dated - - Quinn was afraid of making that fact known, and they’d never been open about it.    
  
It wasn’t that Rachel didn’t trust Kurt. He wasn’t the kind of person who would out anyone intentionally. But he was a gossip and so she’d never told Kurt about her relationship with Quinn. She’d never told Mercedes, Artie or Tina, either. The only person she’d ever told was Mike and she knew he’d never tell anyone.    
  
“I guess once you have a baby with someone, you always have a thing for them,” Kurt mused.   
  
“That’s great,” Rachel told Kurt.   
  
But after they hung up, she burst into tears. She knew she had no claim over Quinn, but it felt terrible to hear that Quinn was dating someone else,  _especially_  Noah.   
  
“There’s no way she loves him more than you,” Claire comforted. “Come on, she misses you, she had a baby with him and he was probably just kind of convenient.” She paused. “And he is really, really hot. And a really good fuck. Like, oh my  _God_ . ”   
  
Rachel made a face. “How would you know?”   
  
“We did it at Nationals, before either our teams went on..”   
  
“Whore,” Rachel grumbled.   
  
“Me or him?”   
  
“Both of you.” Rachel sighed. “This is so weird. I thought I’d have to worry about a  _girl_ .”   
  
“Yeah, but no one is all gay. And anyway. Who are you to say what she is or who she should be with?”   
  
Rachel scowled. “Shut up.”   
  
“You shut up!”   
  
“You shut up!” Rachel shoved her friend who was sitting beside her. “Move! You’re sitting too close to me”   
  
Claire shoved her back. “You move!”   
  
They’d done this song-and-dance routine since they were six-- they loved each other, but sometimes they were too close and so they’d become annoyed with even mere proximity. Rachel sat there alternately being shoved by her best friend and doing the shoving.    
  
It was playful at first, the way it always was, because even if they were genuinely annoyed with one another, they’d never hurt each other. But then it escalated and soon they were wrestling with one another, and it quickly turned serious and they weren’t laughing anymore.   
  
It was quiet in Claire’s room as their limbs tangled. They weren’t laughing and mocking each other anymore, and so the room was filled with the sounds from an advertisement on TV and their soft grunts and breaths.   
  
Somehow Rachel managed to get the upper hand and she had Claire pinned beneath her.    
  
Tenderly, she touched the back of her hand to Claire’s cheek.    
  
Of all the relationships Rachel had in her life, her friendship with Claire was always her easiest and least-complicated. They easily towed the line between kindness and mockery that was necessary in any good friendship. They’d always been physically affectionate with one another, and though there were times when they treated each other with tenderness and understanding that belied their youth, they weren’t like  _this_  with one another. They’d managed to kiss pretty regularly, even with tongue, and lose their virginities to one another and still never have a moment like  _this_  one, where play suddenly turned serious on a dime.    
  
Rachel pressed her lips to her best friend’s and they kissed for a few minutes before Claire pushed her off.   
  
“Aw, crap,” Claire sighed.   
  
“Sorry,” Rachel said softly.   
  
“You dipshit.”   
  
“Shut up, stupid.”   
  
“You’re stupid.”   
  
“ _You’re_  stupid.”   
  
\--   
  
Just as Quinn concealed the fact she was dating Noah (what was  _that_  about anyway), Rachel concealed the fact she was dating Claire from Quinn.   
  
But she still celebrated her joys with Quinn, too. Quinn called her one February day, voice filled with excitement, while Rachel was in the middle of lunch.    
  
Rachel was sitting in the school library getting a head start on an assignment when her phone buzzed. Seeing Quinn on the Caller ID, Rachel knew it was important because Quinn wouldn’t call in the middle of a school day for no reason.   
  
Rachel tapped Claire on the shoulder who was discreetly listening to her iPod as she scrambled to finish homework that was due the next period. Claire looked up and Rachel held up her phone and pointed toward her things, silently asking Claire to keep an eye on her things. Claire nodded and Rachel flashed a smile and answered her call, whispering her greeting as she ducked into an unoccupied row of stacks.    
  
“Hi ba…Quinn,” Rachel greeted. She knew she couldn’t address Quinn by endearments like that anymore. She was dating Claire now, and Quinn was dating Noah.   
  
“I got into NYU!” Quinn shrieked.   
  
A moment of jealousy panged Rachel’s belly, which was quickly replaced by how genuinely happy she was for Quinn.   
  
“That’s great, baby!” Rachel whispered excitedly, forgetting the fact that she’d earlier prevented herself from calling Quinn ‘baby’ and now it’d just slipped. “I’m in the library right now, so I cannot make as much noise as I want to, but be assured that I am so happy for you and I am so proud of you. You deserved it. You worked so hard. See? Didn’t I tell you that you were destined for greater things than Lima, Ohio?”   
  
Quinn chuckled softly. “You have to go home right after school. Check your mailbox and call me back.”   
  
“I will,” Rachel promised.   
  
“Thank you,” Quinn said softly. “For everything,” she added. “I really thought I wouldn’t have a chance of getting out of here anymore. And you…” her voice wavered. “Well, you know. I wouldn’t even have bothered to apply if it hadn’t been for you.”   
  
“It was all you,” Rachel said softly.    
  
“We’re going to be together again in the fall,” Quinn said softly, laughing. “I can’t wait.”   
  
“I haven’t gotten in yet,” Rachel reminded, feeling a little glum. She tried to tell herself that she wasn’t even home yet to check the mail and that she and Quinn had applied to two separate departments at NYU which might have different implications for receipt of acceptance letters.    
  
“Please, you’re a lock, baby,” Quinn said.   
  
Rachel laughed. “I’ll call you when I get home.”   
  
“Talk to you soon, Rach.”   
  
“Bye, Quinn.”   
  
Quinn was definitely one of her most complicated relationships, because she had no idea what they were to one another anymore, but Rachel knew she was profoundly lucky to have Quinn.   
  
The letter wasn’t there when she got home from school. She called Quinn to let her know, and though Quinn sounded as disappointed as Rachel felt, the blonde was still encouraging.    
  
“Check tomorrow.”   
  
The letter didn’t come with ‘tomorrow’ and Rachel was honestly beginning to freak out because she kind of had her heart set on NYU. When Claire’s NYU acceptance letter came the day after and hers still hadn’t arrived, Rachel was ready to stab herself.    
  
But  _finally_ , three whole days after Quinn got her acceptance letter, Rachel got hers.    
  
“It’s going to be awesome,” Rachel declared to Quinn. She was grinning from ear-to-ear as she held her phone in one hand and held Claire’s hand in the other.    
  
Rachel was definitely sending her statement of intent to register to NYU as soon as possible, and so would Quinn. But Claire seemed a little on the fence.   
  
“I kind of like Berkeley better,” Claire informed.    
  
“But we always said we’d go to college together,” Rachel pointed out.    
  
Claire still looked uncertain. But then she smiled. “I know,” she said softly. “And this thing between us is important. I mean, you’ve always been important to me, but now you’re important to me in a new way. I just…I’m not sure how I’d fit in New York. It doesn’t really seem for me.”   
  
“You’d be fine,” Rachel murmured reassuringly. “This is all part of our plan.”   
  
“Well,” Claire said quietly. “I still have lots of time to think about it.”   
  
“Yeah,” Rachel said softly, squeezing her friend’s hand. “Absolutely.”   
  
\--   
  
She loved Claire and maybe there was some distant part of her that always knew they’d end up this way.    
  
But best friends did not always translate into good romances.   
  
She found herself…wandering, which would have been perfectly acceptable if she hadn’t pushed for a commitment. She could see Claire hesitate because Claire was known for wanting to keep things fun. Claire was best friend, after all-- she’d talked about this sort of thing with Claire even before they got together. But Rachel missed being in a relationship. She missed having a girlfriend. She missed Quinn, and well, two out of three wasn’t so bad, right? Especially because Claire was a staple in her life anyway.    
  
Her eyes wandered, which would have been fine, but then her body strayed.   
  
Her first indiscretion just kind of happened-- they were at a house party, and they were never the kind of friends who needed to stick together at social occasions, so they were separated. She was drunk and was getting reacquainted with Anthony, a classmate who reminded her a bit of Mike. It made her chest ache, first because she missed Mike and then she missed Quinn.    
  
Anthony kissed her and they drunkenly groped and made out until Rachel realized what she was doing and pulled away. She couldn’t believe she did it. Cheating was never a problem for her. She’d never done anything like that before.    
  
She found Claire animatedly talking to three friends. Claire was apparently making some kind of obscene gesture and laughing hysterically at the same time. Her friends looked amused, but befuddled and no one complained when Rachel grabbed Claire by the arm and pulled her away, leading her out of the house.   
  
They’d walked there, since Rachel only lived a few blocks away and they both knew they’d drink a lot of alcohol that night. Their neighborhood tended to be crawling with cops, and neither of them wanted to risk the DUI.    
  
“Getting frisky, diva?” Claire asked cheerfully. She paused. “Hey, that would be a good AIM name for you. You should see if it’s still available.”   
  
“I’ll do that,” Rachel said, her voice tight.   
  
Claire stopped walking. “What’s wrong?” she asked, worriedly. “You okay?”   
  
“Yes, fine. Thanks. Let’s go.”   
  
“Did someone say something shitty to you?” Claire asked. She started to move back into the house, but Rachel grabbed her and stilled her. “I’ll kill them! Who was it? Was it freaking Anne? Because I told that bitch I would shove my stiletto in her thigh if she kept saying that crap about your mom and these people know I’m crazy and I’d do it. I’ll kill her!”   
  
Rachel didn’t even  _know_  Anne Winthrop said anything about her mother. “What did she say about my mom?” she demanded, hackles rising and her guilt over what she did to Claire temporarily forgotten.    
  
Claire blinked. “Nothing,” she said.    
  
“Claire!” Rachel practically bellowed.   
  
Claire sighed. “You know the usual crap. Your mom’s a kidnapper, blah blah blah.”   
  
“It’s not ‘blah blah blah,’ to me,” Rachel said, her voice clipped. “I want to know what she said. I have a right to know. What did she say about my mom?” Rachel’s voice trembled slightly. How could she possibly move on with her life when people kept bringing up her mother? Yes, her mother stole her, and even now, Rachel couldn’t come to grips with that, but it’d become her mother’s legacy. It defined her mother now, and Rachel hated that it did. She had to believe that people were better than the worst things they’d done because she kind of hated herself at the moment for what she did to Claire.   
  
Claire sighed. “Friend…”   
  
“Tell me!”   
  
“She said it’s too bad San Diego has such mild weather because…” Claire paused. “Friend, don’t…”   
  
“I want to know,” Rachel said firmly.    
  
“She said it’s too bad San Diego has such mild weather because your mom is probably really uncomfortable with the heat in hell.”   
  
Rachel’s mouth fell open. Until now, she’d never really thought about that. She never thought about what happened to her mother after she died. She was still too fixated on just the fact her mother was  _gone_ , she never stopped to think about what came after that. Jews didn’t believe in hell, but Rachel always believed there was something more to life than just the act of living. The thought that when it was over, it was just  _over_  made her feel so sad. She didn’t know what came after death, and the mere thought there could possibly be a hell (she was a Jew, but it’s not like anyone knew definitively, right?) and her mother could be there…Rachel couldn’t think about it anymore.    
  
“Fuck,” Claire cursed softly. She grabbed Rachel and gave her a quick, tight hug. “Okay, you stay here. I’m going to smash my stiletto into her thigh anyway.”   
  
“You’re wearing Vans,” Rachel pointed out quietly.    
  
“Well, I’ll just kick her then. When I told her that, it was last week and I actually was wearing stilettos. I’m sure there’s a stiletto in that house somewhere.”   
  
Rachel held her by the arm to keep her from leaving. “Forget it,” Rachel said quietly. “She’s not worth it.”   
  
“But--”   
  
“Forget it. My mom is gone, and admittedly that has been very difficult for me, but I can’t stop people from speculating about her. They will do that anyway.”   
  
“It doesn’t make it okay,” Claire grumbled. They started to walk again. “So then…why were you so upset?”   
  
Rachel sighed weakly. “I kissed Anthony.”   
  
Claire stopped again and Rachel winced and waited for the explosion.   
  
It never came.   
  
“Oh,” Claire said, her voice a little muted. “Just kissing?”   
  
“Yeah.”   
  
“Anthony Ruiz or Anthony Morrelli?”   
  
“Morrelli.”   
  
“Okay, then. Ruiz is not cute.”   
  
Rachel bit her lower lip. “I’m sorry, Claire,” she said sincerely. “But in my own very limited defense, I was very intoxicated when it happened. I know it neither explains nor excuses my actions. But--”   
  
“Oh, shut up,” Claire said with a sigh, wrapping her arm around Rachel’s waist and resting her head on the crook of Rachel’s neck. “It won’t happen again, right?”   
  
“No,” Rachel promised. “You’re my best friend and my girlfriend. I’d never want to hurt you.”   
  
“Okay, then. Let’s just chalk it up to one of those drunken mistakes you’ll never do again.”   
  
“Okay,” Rachel said, relieved.   
  
\--   
  
The next morning, Claire got up and lumbered home, a little hungover, but sober.   
  
“I need to make an appearance at home before my mother starts making threats to send me to a Chinese boarding school. I can’t move to China. I’d miss Facebook and Tumblr too much.”   
  
Rachel laughed softly, but she felt a little sad. “Will you call me later?”   
  
“Of course, I will.”   
  
“Are you mad at me?” Rachel asked quietly.    
  
Claire paused. “About last night?”   
  
“Yes,” Rachel whispered/   
  
“Well, I’m not happy about it,” Claire said, a tiny bite to her voice. She relented almost immediately. “But I love you and I know things have been pretty rough for you for a while. So, it’s okay.”   
  
Claire left and Rachel rolled over, calculated the time difference between California and Ohio and decided that since it was 2pm in Lima, Quinn would definitely be awake even if she’d had a long night.    
  
“Hi!” Quinn greeted when she answered the phone.   
  
“Do you think Hell exists?” Rachel asked quietly without any preamble.    
  
“Of course,” Quinn answered promptly.    
  
Rachel suppressed a sigh. Of course Quinn would believe in Hell. She was a Christian, after all. “Oh.”   
  
“Why do you ask?”   
  
“This girl told Claire that my mom is there,” Rachel said softly. She was embarrassed for herself that she was becoming weepy again.   
  
Quinn released a soft, horrified gasp. “She’s not there!” Quinn said immediately.   
  
“How do you know?” Rachel asked softly.   
  
“It’s not…people like your mom…they don’t…I…” Quinn trailed off feebly. “Hitler!” she finally exclaimed.    
  
“I’m sorry,” Rachel murmured affectionately, smiling in spite of herself. “But was there an actual sentence in there somewhere?”   
  
“People like Hitler are the ones who should go to Hell. Not…not your mom,” Quinn said, struggling for a way to make Rachel feel better. “Oh,  _baby_ . I’m sorry.”   
  
Rachel trembled. “She wasn’t a bad person. She was a good mom,” she said, her voice wobbly.   
  
It always came back to that. Rachel felt like she’d have to spend the rest of her life defending her mom and always it would come down to the fact that her mother did a very bad thing, but she wasn’t a bad person.    
  
“I know, Rach. She raised  _you_  and you’re such a good person. That says so much about her.”   
  
Rachel smiled. “You always know how to make me feel better,” she said softly. “How do you do that?”   
  
“It’s not that hard,” Quinn said gently. She chuckled. “Usually I just have to say ‘Barbra Streisand.’”   
  
Rachel giggled.   
  
“See?” Quinn murmured.    
  
Rachel laughed. She loved this girl.   
  
“How are you?” Rachel asked.    
  
“Good,” Quinn said.    
  
“Anything new?”   
  
Quinn paused. “Not really. How are you?” Quinn asked, deflecting. “Other than that bitch talking about your mom.”   
  
Rachel wondered if and when Quinn would tell her that she was dating Noah again.    
  
“Good,” Rachel said.    
  
“Anything new with you?” Quinn asked.   
  
Rachel bit her lower lip. She’d been hiding the fact she was dating Claire for  _months_  and it was weighing down on her. It forced her to be careful with what she told Quinn and she didn’t like that feeling. “No.”   
  
\--   
  
Rachel promised Claire that kissing someone else would be a one-time, drunken mistake.    
  
It turned out to be easier said than done.   
  
\--   
  
Rachel didn’t know what was wrong with her. She just couldn’t stop. She’d pushed for a commitment because she missed having one, and then  _she_  was the one who fucked it up. It started small-- kissing someone she shouldn’t. After the thing with Anthony Morrelli, she ended up making out with Anthony Ruiz, who was indeed, not that cute, at another party a few weeks later.    
  
This time, she kept it to herself. She felt so guilty about it, she sat through a marathon of Claire’s ridiculous horror movies.    
  
It got worse after that. A furtive, forbidden kiss here and there with someone she shouldn’t even  _touch_ . The person always varied-- some guy or girl from school, some acquaintance, sometimes even some stranger. The other people weren’t the kind of people she even  _liked_ \-- by and large, they were disrespectful to her and she had piles of ruined clothing from the indelicate way they treated her.    
  
And of course, then it escalated. She started having sex with other people, and she couldn’t bring herself to stop. They weren’t even good people and she wasn’t in love with any of them. They didn’t invoke any feelings inside of her other than anger or perhaps disdain. More than once, she’d had to conceal a bruise or a welt from an encounter gone wrong.    
  
She didn’t know what was wrong with her-- why she was cheating on Claire with people who were so awful to her.    
  
And she couldn’t bring herself to tell Claire about all of her indiscretions, but she felt so guilty, she did her best to be the perfect girlfriend and so what started out as tentative and casual with Claire became intense and consuming.   
  
“Jesus Christ, who ever knew I’d actually fall in love with my best friend?” Claire asked in wonderment, laughing a little with bewilderment. “But I guess it kind of makes sense, right?” she asked softly. “It’s always been me and you for as long as either of us could remember.”   
  
Rachel smiled weakly. “Yeah,” she agreed softly.    
  
It  _hurt_ . Rachel felt terrible because she loved Claire, too. She’d loved Claire since they were  _six_ , but she just couldn’t stop the constant betrayals. She didn’t even know why she was doing it-- Claire was the perfect best friend and the perfect girlfriend. She was attentive and the tenderness and respect Claire had always showed her as a friend was amplified as a girlfriend. And really, she wouldn’t have kept kissing Claire since they shared their first kiss when they were ten if Claire weren’t good at it. When it came to the physical component of their relationship, Rachel was  _happy_ .    
  
She wanted to stop hurting Claire. But she just couldn’t.   
  
And then one day, she was discovered.   
  
\--   
  
  



	9. Chapter 9

Claire was supposed to be gone that whole weekend, visiting her paternal grandparents in LA. But LA was only about two hours away.    
  
Rachel’s stepfather was working late and Rachel invited Jason Peterson over with only one purpose in mind because she didn’t even  _like_  Jason as a person. It really was all about sex.   
  
Rachel and Jason were naked and when Claire burst into the room screaming “I’ve been sprung,” there was no way for Rachel to deny what she was doing.   
  
Claire’s eyes widened and out of habit, because this sort of thing had happened to them in the past before, back when they were just friends, she shrieked, covered her eyes and shouted an apology before backing away and shutting the door.   
  
It took exactly one second before the door opened again.    
  
“Wait a minute,” Claire mumbled.   
  
Jason got dressed hurriedly and left, leaving Rachel, naked and staring up at her very livid best friend/girlfriend.    
  
“I was worried you’d be bored or lonely without me, so I begged my dad to drive us back early,” Claire commented neutrally. “I guess I was very mistaken.”   
  
“I’m sorry,” Rachel whispered.   
  
\--   
  
There was a long discussion, but the outcome was clear from the onset. Rachel confessed everything and Claire was quiet as she absorbed it all.    
  
“I had my suspicions. I’m not a retard. I love you and I don’t want to lose you as my friend,” Claire said. “But I’m really fucking pissed at you right now and I kind of want to rip your face off. You need to  _not_  talk to me for a while.   
  
“Friend--”   
  
Claire cut her off. “No, seriously, Rachel. You need to not talk to me for a while.”   
  
Claire was her best friend for ten years, and all it took to ruin things was a few months of dating.    
  
\--   
  
By the time Nationals came a couple months later, Claire was speaking to her again, Claire was definitely chilly. Rachel couldn’t remember a time her easygoing friend froze her out for longer than a couple of hours. But Rachel knew the relationship was on its way to being repaired, even if she felt the occasional rush of anxiety that things were irrevocably broken.    
  
New Directions made it to Nationals and Rachel thought about how weird it was that just the year before, she was in the same situation, just on the other side of it.   
  
Nationals were held in Las Vegas that year and Rachel’s team landed in Vegas the day after New Directions arrived. Their teams were staying in the same hotel, and Rachel was filled with anticipation as she knocked on the door to room 312.   
  
Quinn swung open the door and grinned.   
  
“Hey,” Quinn greeted casually.    
  
“Hey,” Rachel drawled.   
  
They stared at one another for a moment before they shrieked and threw themselves at one another. Somehow, Rachel found herself with her legs wrapped around Quinn’s waist and her arms around Quinn’s neck. Quinn’s arms and hands were holding onto her thighs and they laughed as they made their way to Quinn’s bed, collapsing onto it, still hugging and holding each other tightly.   
  
“At least wait until we’re out of the room,” Santana grumbled, getting off the other bed and pulling Brittany up by the hand. She paused. “Unless you don’t mind an audience.”   
  
Rachel laughed. “I’ve missed you, too, Santana.”   
  
She never really got to know Santana or Brittany that well, but she’d hung out with them because of Quinn. She was surprised how good it felt to see them again.   
  
\--   
Rachel got caught up with Santana and Brittany, but soon the other two girls left, leaving Quinn and Rachel alone. They were laying in bed, curled up together and running their fingers through each other’s hair and Rachel was tempted (so tempted) to kiss her, but the brunette couldn’t work up the nerve.   
  
“It’s so good to see you,” Rachel said, beaming. She couldn’t believe she was ready to cry. That’s how good she felt.    
  
“It’s good to see you, too,” Quinn said softly.    
  
It was too good to see her.   
  
\--   
  
Her team won Nationals, of course. New Directions accepted defeat graciously and Rachel was pleased by the fact that she had four Nationals titles under her belt. She knew she wasn’t the sole reason each of the two teams she’d participated in had won Nationals when she was a member, but she didn’t think it was coincidental that when she  _wasn’t_  a member of that team, that team lost.    
  
“You’re an egotist,” Claire told her with a small smile when Rachel whispered that to her.   
  
Rachel suppressed a beaming grin, because every time Claire talked to her now felt like a small blessing. She didn’t want to think about how hurt she’d been when Claire wouldn’t sit next to her on the plane ride to Las Vegas.   
\--   
  
Rachel thought that, perhaps, she would have to share her Quinn-time with Noah, but they seemed to be studiously avoiding one another and she just assumed they broke up.    
  
It was confirmed by Kurt.   
  
“I didn’t tell you?!” he exclaimed. “Quinn broke up with him  _months_  ago. It was  _Chernobyl_  bad. I still have the viscera from Puck’s heart on my favorite Alexander McQueen sweater.”   
  
Rachel thought it best not to bring it up. Ever.    
  
\--   
  
“Hey,” Quinn said when their two teams were celebrating after they’d changed out of their competition costumes. For most of them, it was the last competition of their high school careers and while there was some resentment from New Directions, for the most part, the mood was celebratory and jubilant.    
  
“Hey,” Rachel returned.    
  
“What’s up with you and Claire? You guys haven’t talked much all night.”   
  
Rachel trembled. “We’re…having some issues,” she whispered.    
  
Quinn frowned. “Let’s get out of here and talk,” she said, wrapping her arm around Rachel’s shoulder and leading them out of the restaurant.    
  
\--   
  
They sat outside in the patio area, and they sat close together so their conversation would not be overheard.   
  
Rachel blurted the sorry details-- and when she was finished, Quinn just stared at her.   
  
“You dated Claire?” Quinn asked with obvious dismay.   
  
Rachel sighed.   
  
Crap.   
  
\--   
  
Rachel didn’t  _think_  she needed Quinn’s forgiveness for dating Claire, but she sort of  _felt_  like she did.    
  
“It’s just…why did it have to be  _her_ ?” Quinn asked quietly.   
  
Rachel shrugged helplessly. “It’s just kind of happened.”   
  
“You always called her the love of your life.”   
  
Rachel smiled wryly, and her smile was a bit sad. “I think that title has gone to you now,” she whispered.    
  
Quinn stared at her for a long moment. “I’m sorry it didn’t work out between you guys,” she said quietly. “Well, not sorry, really. I’m sorry it didn’t end on better terms.:   
  
Rachel smiled ruefully. “Me too.”   
  
“Why did you keep doing it?” Quinn asked softly. “Did you even like any of those other people? You could have just broken up with her.”   
  
“I don’t know,” Rachel said, frustrated and bewildered by her own actions. She didn’t even understand herself anymore. “I just couldn’t let her go, but I couldn’t stop cheating on her.”   
  
Quinn sighed and patted her hand. “You’ll be friends again. Don’t worry.”   
  
In all honesty, that wasn’t something Rachel was worried about. She and Claire had always weathered through all of their problems and while this was a  _big_  one and she’d screwed up  _royally_ , Claire would never drop her for very long. She was more worried about what her actions said about  _her_ . Somehow she’d turned into someone she didn’t want to be and she just couldn’t seem to get a grip anymore.    
  
\--   
  
They only had a few hours together before they had to separate and go back to their respective lives. But it was enough, at least, for a little while.   
  
“I’ll see you in like, six weeks,” Quinn murmured.    
  
“Yeah,” Rachel said, reaching for Quinn and hugging her tight. “I can’t wait.”   
  
She’d spend half the summer after graduation with her stepfather, but she’d spend the other half of it in Lima with her fathers. It was the fairest agreement she could think of, and she wanted to see her fathers, and this time, she’d be ready to go to Lima.    
  
\--   
  
Claire took the seat next to her on the plane from Vegas back to California.    
  
“Hey,” Claire greeted. She held out a stick of gum.    
  
Rachel smiled and took it. She unwrapped it, stuck it in her mouth, crumpled the wrapper into a small ball and threw it at Claire. It slipped into Claire’s bra, and Claire smiled wryly and pulled it out before tossing it at Rachel. It bounced off Rachel’s forehead before dropping to some dark space underneath the seat.    
  
“That Puck guy slipped me an erotic novel,” Claire said. “Want to take turns reading it out loud? It’s poorly written and the dude just printed it off the internet. It’s some free e-book. See? The guy’s got an enormous  _dock_  that he’s going to put up her  _critch_ . Maybe this book is actually about home-improvement.”   
  
Rachel smiled. She was never going to read erotica out loud, not even for Claire, but she was gratified that she really didn’t have anything to worry about when it came to her relationship with Claire.    
  
\--   
Graduation came and her fathers flew out to see her walk across the stage. They hadn’t been able to make Nationals, but her stepfather couldn’t either, so she could hardly blame them.    
  
They were proud and hugged her.   
  
“I know it was the right choice to have you come back here,” one her fathers told her. “But it was so hard to let you go.”   
  
“We’ll see you when in a few weeks when you come home,” her other father said.   
  
Rachel felt a pang of guilt because even with her limited time spent in Lima, her fathers still considered it home for her. She’d thought a lot about who they were as men and as parents for being willing to let her go, just so she could be a little happier.    
  
When it came to parents, she felt truly blessed. Even though she’d never have all the answers about her mother, and she still sometimes resented her mother, Rachel could not deny she’d been blessed with two loving fathers, a supportive stepfather and a wonderful mother.    
  
\--   
  
The summer in San Diego passed quickly. She packed up her things and sent them to Lima and shared a tearful goodbye with her stepfather and with Claire, who would not be joining her at NYU as she hoped.   
  
“I just think Berkeley’s more my speed, friend,” Claire said apologetically.    
  
“You’re not trying to get away from me, are you, friend?” Rachel asked quietly.   
  
“If I wanted to get away from you, it would have already happened, be fri,” Claire murmured. “We’re both going to be fine, even thousands of miles apart. We did it once, and we’ll do it again.”   
  
\--   
  
When Rachel came back to Lima, she was horrified to realize all the terrible things people were saying about her fathers for letting her go back to San Diego. It never even occurred to her that they would suffer backlash from it, because the decision had been the right one for  _her_ .   
  
She had to wonder when she’d stop being so damn selfish.    
  
When she was out in public with them, she made sure to be extra affectionate with them because she wanted that entire judgmental town to understand how amazing her fathers were.    
  
\--   
  
She spent most of her time in Lima with Quinn. They’d already agreed to live together when they moved to New York for college, but somehow being in proximity together introduced an awkwardness that wasn’t present when they were thousands of miles away, communicating through phone calls, texts and emails.    
  
“We just have to get to know each other again,” Rachel commented ruefully. She smiled crookedly. “’Two strangers learning to fall in love again,’” she sang softly.   
  
Mr. Schue had a fondness for Journey which was difficult to fathom, but Rachel had to admit she was a fan now.    
  
Quinn chuckled. “Yeah,” she agreed.   
  
\--   
  
Rachel wasn’t sure how to behave around Quinn anymore, and it was obvious Quinn wasn’t sure what to do either.   
  
One night, Rachel invited Quinn over to the house and they laid on a blanket in the backyard, sharing a bottle of wine that she liberated from her fathers’ liquor cabinet. Her fathers were on a couples’ getaway for the weekend and while Rachel found herself missing them, she was kind of glad they were gone so she could have this time alone with Quinn.    
  
She must have fallen asleep, however. The last thing she could remember was listening to Leonard Cohen on the iPod they were sharing. She woke up, curled on her side. She opened her eyes and Quinn was gazing intently at her.    
  
Quinn’s right hand gently rested on Rachel’s cheek and they stared at one another for a long moment, each of them holding their breaths.    
  
“I’m still so mad at you for leaving,” Quinn whispered.    
  
“I know,” Rachel said regretfully.    
  
“Things were  _good_  between us.”   
  
“They were,” Rachel agreed. She swallowed hard. “I’m really glad I’m here,” she said softly. “It feels great to see everyone and I’m really happy to see my dads again. Being away from them made me realize how lucky I am to have them. They let me go back and I thought about them every day and how hard it must have been for them.”   
  
“It probably was,” Quinn said softly. “It probably wasn’t as bad as when they didn’t know where you were…” her voice trembled slightly. “It’s hard not knowing where your kid is, even if you decided to give them up.”   
  
Rachel smiled slightly and turned her head to kiss the centre of Quinn’s palm. She knew Quinn must be thinking of the daughter she gave up for adoption.    
  
“But it couldn’t have been easy for your fathers that you didn’t want to be here,” Quinn continued. “I felt so sorry for them.” Quinn paused. “It was hard for me, too,” she whispered.    
  
Rachel flinched. “It wasn’t so much that I didn’t want to be here. I just couldn’t…take it here anymore. I’m sorry I left and for all the people I hurt by leaving, especially my fathers and...” her voice halted. “And you. I’m sorry I hurt you. It was just something I had to do. But I am glad I’m here again. I’m so happy to be around them and I…” her voice lowered. “I’m happy to be around you.”    
  
Quinn released a shaky breath. “I’m glad you came back, too. I was worried you wouldn’t and I’d have to wait until we got to school to see you.”   
  
Rachel smiled. “I couldn’t have waited that long to see you,” she said softly. She moved her head forward and pressed a soft kiss to Quinn’s forehead. “I don’t think I can tell you enough how good it is to see you.”   
  
Quinn exhaled softly. “It’s good to see you, too.”

\-----

 

It took a while for them to regain their easy familiarity and Rachel had to wonder if it’d been worth giving that up to spend her senior year in San Diego. It wasn’t that things were uncomfortable with Quinn per se, it was just that things had changed and being so far apart, they hadn’t been able to change together.   
  
  
It was a hot night in mid-August when they shared their first kiss since being reunited. They were still another couple weeks away from moving to New York. The semester at NYU started in the last week of August that year and they were spending many of their days doing some shopping so they would be apartment-ready.   
  
Rachel knew it had to happen sometime, and she’d been content to let it happen organically.    
  
It’d been building up between them since their two teams competed at Nationals. She’d almost kissed Quinn then, but the blow-up with Claire was still raw and it just didn’t feel like the right time.   
  
There’d been moments throughout the summer when Rachel just wanted to take a chance and kiss Quinn. There’d been plenty of nights where they were both drunk enough that anything that happened between them could have been blamed on the alcohol. But Rachel didn’t  _want_  to blame anything on alcohol. Every other time she kissed Quinn, she’d  _meant_  it, felt it. She didn’t want this to be any different.    
  
She knew Quinn had feelings for her. But she also sensed Quinn’s hesitancy. Rachel knew leaving Lima had screwed up anything good between her and Quinn. She could feel Quinn’s reluctance to trust her and Rachel didn’t blame her. But she desperately wanted to win Quinn’s favor back. They’d stayed friends through their senior year, but their friendship had definitely been negatively impacted by her physical absence from Lima.   
  
Still, things had been brewing between them-- a hug that lasted too long, manufactured excuses to come into contact with one another, grazing each other’s thighs for no reason, turning up the air conditioning and blasting a fan toward them so they’d have an excuse to cuddle each other in their beds-- all those things indicated a mutual desire for more and a mutual fear to take the leap.    
  
That August evening had been hot and humid. Just breathing in the air had been stifling.   
  
They’d spent the day together and bickered good-naturedly throughout, but after the sun set, Rachel sensed a corresponding change in Quinn’s mood.    
  
“What is it?” Rachel asked softly, pausing the DVD they were watching.    
  
“I don’t know,” Quinn replied quietly. “I just feel kind of blah right now.”   
  
“Ennui,” Rachel murmured wisely, with a nod.   
  
Quinn’s brow furrowed. “You think I’m on  _weed_ ?”   
  
Rachel stared at her. “You’re on weed?”   
  
“You said you think I’m on weed!”   
  
“I said, ‘ennui,’ not on weed. E-n-n-u-i,” Rachel said, carefully enunciating each letter. “It means--”   
  
“I know what it means,” Quinn said irritably. “I just thought you said I was on weed.”   
  
“No,” Rachel said. She paused. “Are you?”   
  
“What?!” Quinn sputtered. “What would make you think I was on weed?”   
  
Rachel grinned crookedly. “It would explain your sloth through this summer.” She paused. “And the fact you consumed that entire 12-inch BLT at dinner!” she teased.   
  
Quinn’s face reddened and she grabbed her pillow and hit Rachel with it. “I told you! I was hungry! We didn’t eat lunch today because of your insane insistence on finding all the best back-to-school deals! I don’t even know why we’re doing so much shopping here, they have stores in New York!”   
  
Rachel laughed so hard, her stomach hurt. She tried to catch her breath, but when she saw Quinn’s stern face, she broke into fresh hysterics.   
  
Unamused, Quinn used her foot to push Rachel off the bed.   
  
Rachel hit the ground with a loud thump, and stared up at Quinn for a brief moment of frozen disbelief before she dissolved into fresh laughter. She laughed for a few more minutes, before she finally caught her breath and managed to pull herself up into a sitting position. She got onto her knees and rested her arms on the bed, peering intently at Quinn.    
  
The blonde was looking back at her with a murderous expression, but she was clearly trying not to laugh.   
  
“I can’t believe you thought I would be on weed,” Quinn said.    
  
Rachel grinned. “I didn’t, I said ‘ennui,’” she said lightly. She climbed up onto the bed again. “I’m sorry I was such a dictator today,” she murmured. “But the cost of living is much higher in New York City than it is here, and so I felt it was better to get some basic supplies here before we move.”   
  
Quinn gave her a small smile but it quickly turned into a reproachful frown. “You called me fat.”   
  
Rachel’s brows furrowed in genuine consternation. “When?”   
  
“Like, four seconds ago!”   
  
Rachel stared at her. “Over the BLT?”   
  
Quinn’s eyes narrowed, silently confirming.    
  
Rachel felt terrible she’d made Quinn uncomfortable, but of every person she’d ever met in her entire life, Quinn was the person who had the least reason to be insecure about her appearance.   
  
“Quinn,” Rachel said softly. “I was just teasing. I love that you love bacon. I think it’s hilarious and endearing that you are so infatuated with an item of food.”   
  
Quinn rolled her eyes. “Yeah, right,” she scoffed.    
  
“I do,” Rachel insisted, crawling closer to Quinn. “I can’t wait until we move in together,” she murmured. “Because to be honest, I’ve entertained quite a few daydreams of the two of us cooking together and occasionally bickering over what to keep in the refrigerator,”   
  
Quinn softened. “You have?”   
  
“Of course,” Rachel murmured. “And you aren’t fat. You’re beautiful,” Rachel said sincerely. “You’re gorgeous and I’m an asshole.”   
  
“You should have seen me before I got pregnant. I was hot,” Quinn said petulantly.    
  
“You’re hot now,” Rachel pointed out.   
  
“I never got my body back the way it was though,” Quinn said quietly. “You’ve seen my stomach,” she said quietly, pointing to her belly which still had a few stretch marks. She pulled up her shirt and pointed to them.   
  
Rachel bent in close and pressed her lips to Quinn’s belly. She heard Quinn inhale sharply.    
  
“You’re beautiful,” Rachel said softly. “Every single flawless inch of you makes me melt.” She sat up and smiled at Quinn, gazing intently into Quinn’s eyes. Quinn was staring back at her, eyes wide.   
  
This was the moment Rachel had been waiting for since she got to see Quinn again at Nationals. This was the first time Quinn seemed wholly unguarded with her since she’d told Quinn she was leaving Lima and going back to her old life in San Diego. To this day, Rachel would never say that it was a mistake-- it was something she needed to have done for her own sanity. But she profoundly regretted how much she hurt Quinn. Quinn’s faith and trust were hard-earned and Rachel knew her actions had served to lose both.    
  
“Quinn,” Rachel said softly. “I know we’ve talked about this a lot. I don’t want to keep beating a dead horse, but I want you to know how sincerely sorry I am for the way I hurt you.” She released a soft sigh. “If I really felt it was just a simple matter of toughing it out here, I would have stayed because you…you were a lot to walk away from. Almost too much. I wish I could make you understand how much you mean to me.”   
  
“I don’t get why you wanted to go back to it,” Quinn said after a moment of silence. “She  _stole_  you. She took you. This is where you were supposed to be. You weren’t supposed to be there. You weren’t supposed to be with  _her_  and you had a chance to stay where you belonged, but instead you went back  _there_ !”   
  
Rachel swallowed hard. “I know,” she said quietly. “But it was the life I knew. I couldn’t…adjust here. You know that.”   
  
“I hate your mom,” Quinn whispered. “I’m sorry, Rachel. But I do. She stole you. We should have…” Quinn thought about all the time she’d lost with Rachel-- they could have grown up together, been friends, shared secrets, shared their lives. When she thought about Rachel’s mom, all she could think about was how that selfish woman stole Rachel and took her from where she’d belonged. They should have had their lives together and Shelby Corcoran stole time tha should have been theirs.    
  
“We should have been together,” Rachel interjected softly. “We should have been together all this time. I know. But she’s my mom,” Rachel said her voice trembling. “And I…I can’t hate her. As much as I want to, I can’t hate her.” She paused. “I lied to you about how she died,” she admitted quietly.    
  
Quinn froze. “What?”   
  
“It wasn’t a car accident,” Rachel said quietly. “It was in a car, but it wasn’t an accident. We were driving and we were arguing about something ridiculous and then she made this noise.” Rachel swallowed hard and clenched her jaw for a moment before she could speak again. “She said ‘I don’t feel well,’ and she gripped her forehead and just kind of…” Rachel bent her head and shoulders, miming her mother’s motion that day. “She had a heart attack,” Rachel said softly. “She was dead even before the paramedics came.” She took a shuddering breath. “I know she did something really bad and she wasn’t the perfect mother. But she…” Rachel took another breath. “She was all I knew and when I came here, I wasn’t ready to let her go or the life she gave me. I know I was selfish, but I am sorry I hurt you. It…it wasn’t like you were collateral damage. Hurting you hurt me, too. But I lost my mom and then I lost the life that I knew and I just couldn’t handle it. I had to go back.”   
  
Quinn swallowed visibly. “Okay,” she said softly.   
  
Rachel smiled hesitantly. “Okay?”   
  
“Okay,” Quinn affirmed.    
  
Rachel released a breath of relief. “I know I don’t have much credibility with you anymore. But I want you to know, I never stopped thinking about you,” she murmured. “I--”   
  
“Shut up,” Quinn said softly, putting her hand to Rachel’s lips. Quinn gripped the front of Rachel’s shirt and pulled Rachel closer.    
  
Quinn’s mouth covered Rachel’s and they kissed heatedly, hands roaming over each other’s bodies and clenching into their hair.    
  
Rachel lost track of time-- she wasn’t sure how long they were kissing, just that her mouth was sore and she was so aroused that it was almost painful. She wasn’t wearing a bra and when Quinn’s hands tugged on her shirt, the scratch of the soft cotton tanktop against her nipples made her gasp.   
  
Quinn tugged impatiently at the tanktop until it practically ripped off.   
  
“Slut,” Quinn murmured affectionately when she saw Rachel wasn’t wearing a bra.   
  
“Mine aren’t big enough that I need to wear one all the time,” Rachel replied. “Not like yours,” she said, pushing her hands under Quinn’s shirt and cupping both of Quinn’s breasts through the bra. She gave them a gentle squeeze.    
  
Quinn released a soft groan and quickly shucked off her shirt and took off her bra. She threw both articles of clothing off to the side. Grunting she grabbed the back of Rachel’s head and pulled Rachel toward her, guiding Rachel’s lips to her nipple.   
  
Rachel eagerly brought Quinn’s breast into her mouth, sucking gently on Quinn’s nipple and rolling her tongue around it.   
  
“Oh God,” Quinn whimpered.   
  
Rachel bit down gently, eliciting another whimper from Quinn and cupped Quinn’s other breast with one hand, massing it gently before tweaking Quinn’s nipple between her fingers.   
  
“I love your breasts,” Rachel panted. “They’re so perfect,” she whispered before she buried her face in Quinn’s cleavage to kiss Quinn’s breasts. “You don’t know how much I’ve wanted these in my face again,” she whispered.   
  
Quinn pulled up her skirt and began pushing Rachel’s head down. “I need…I…” she released a small groan. “Please,” she whimpered. “Please,” she repeated again, her voice coming out as a croak.    
  
Rachel hand drifted down and settled between Quinn’s legs. “You’re the slut,” she commented with a cheerful grin. “You’re not wearing any underwear.”   
  
But Rachel found herself wishing she’d foregone wearing underwear herself because her wet underwear was not causing her a great deal of discomfort. Her hand between Quinn’s legs was warm and sticky and every movement her hand brought another warm gush that coated her fingers. This only made her underwear even more damp and she couldn’t remember the last time she was so wet.   
  
“It’s too hot for underwear,” Quinn growled.   
  
Rachel laughed softly. “I love you,” she murmured. “I’ve missed this.”   
  
Quinn softened. “I love you, too. And I’ve missed this for a really long time.”   
  
Those were the last words they uttered to one another for the rest of the night.   
  
\--   
  
They didn’t talk about it, but they just slipped back into a relationship and Rachel felt that it was only natural that it happened that way. The rest of the summer passed quickly and soon, it was time to move.   
  
Her fathers rented a U-Haul trailer which they attached to the car. It was large enough to pack up both Quinn and Rachel’s things. Her fathers seemed a little subdued as they drove her and she felt a little sad herself. She wondered what kind of relationship she could have had with them if her mother hadn’t taken her. Behind them, Quinn and her mom were following closely, since their two families were caravanning. Every once in a while, Rachel found herself sticking her hand out the window and waving to Quinn and Judy. She grinned every time Quinn waved back from the passenger seat.    
  
It was a long drive and they didn’t talk much until they’d already cross state lines into New York.   
  
“Even when you were little, you always wanted this,” her father, Ronald told her softly. “I’m so proud of you, sweetheart.”   
  
She wasn’t seeking  _closure_  in her relationship with her fathers, or resolution or anything that would imply any finality. But what she wanted was to start some new chapter in their relationship, something different from all the hurt of the past, and she thought maybe this move, this  _appropriate_  move was exactly what they needed. Parents  _expect_  to drop their kids off at college and walk away. They don’t expect a routine visit to the park would result in a grave miscommunication that would forever alter their lives. And they don’t expect the kid they shelled out a fortune to have to choose a life built on a lie over them.    
  
Maybe this way, with them moving on the  _right_  way, things might finally get easier for them.   
  
\--   
  
Rachel watched as Quinn and her mother shared a tearful goodbye hug.    
  
“I’m so proud of you, Quinnie,” Judy repeated over and over again.   
  
When they finally broke apart, Judy turned to Rachel and with a tiny sob, approached Rachel quickly, pulling Rachel into a fierce hug. Rachel held onto her for a few moments until she gently pulled away.    
  
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Rachel said quietly, because she knew how much guilt Judy carried since the day she chose not to stop at the park.    
  
The subject of her mother was not something she and her fathers would ever see eye-to-eye on, and she understood their perspective. But Judy Fabray continued to be a sore subject in their family. Her fathers readily accepted Quinn, but Judy was another matter. Rachel could understand why they resented Quinn’s mother, but she didn’t think it was reasonable, either. There was no way Judy should have believed Rachel was unattended that day at the park, and Rachel felt that if she were in Judy’s position, she would have done the same.    
  
These days, Judy was the sole point of contention between her and her fathers. Quinn was important to her and so, Judy was important to her. Rachel couldn’t stand the thought of her fathers hating one more person who was important to her.    
  
She’d spoken to her fathers about it on the drive up, and their reception was a little cold.    
  
But she could see both of them trying to be civil when her father, Ronald, called out to Quinn’s mother.   
  
“Jude,” he said, addressing Quinn’s mother by the nickname he used when they were still friends. “Let’s allow the girls to settle in. We should get going before the traffic gets bad.” He glanced at his husband and gave him a wry smile. “I may need to ride with you. Evel Knievel over here hasn’t obeyed a road sign since 1986.”   
  
Judy smiled. “I’d welcome your company.”   
  
Ronald smiled back. He suddenly began to laugh and everyone looked at him curiously. He smiled at Judy. “Do you remember when Rachel was two months old? Russell and Michael were out of town and you were putting the wood floors in your house.”   
  
Judy immediately began to laugh. “I do,” she said, shaking her head.   
  
“What?” Rachel said, curiously. She smiled.. “Tell us.”   
  
“Yeah,” Quinn said. “Tell us.” She grinned at Rachel and Rachel grinned back.    
  
Ronald smiled at Quinn. “Your mother didn’t want to stay alone in the house. There were some robberies in the neighborhood back then, and you were only ten or eleven months old. So I invited your mother to stay at our house for while until your father came home. Your sister took the guest room and we put you and Rachel in the same crib.”   
  
Rachel barely suppressed the urge to make a wise crack about getting Quinn into bed at an early age. None of their parents knew about their relationship yet. It just wasn’t something they were quite ready to share.    
  
“Your mother and I were sleeping in the bed together…” Ronald trailed off as several sets of eyes stared at him. “Don’t look at me like that. Judy and I were sleeping in the same bed since kindergarten. Our mothers use to  _bathe_  us together. In any case, everything was fine until Rachel began crying in the middle of the night.”   
  
“So you were  _always_  a problem,” Quinn told Rachel.   
  
Rachel scowled.    
  
“And then, of course, Quinn began to cry,” Ronald said.    
  
“So you’re a natural follower?” Rachel joked.    
  
Quinn frowned and glared at her.    
  
“And so Judy said…”    
  
Judy grinned. “If you take care of both of them, I’ll give you five dollars,” she recalled with a laugh. “And Ronald said…”   
  
“If you go, I’ll give you  _fifty_ .”   
  
Judy and Ronald exploded into uproarious laughter. Michael looked amused, but not nearly as amused as his husband. Rachel and Quinn shook their heads.    
  
“What a heartwarming story of benign parental neglect,” Rachel quipped, but she was grinning from ear to ear.   
  
Ronald smiled at Judy. “And now we’re dropping our girls off at college and Aubrey has a baby of her own.”   
  
“Time is a strange thing,” Judy said softly with a nod.   
  
\--   
  
With their parents gone, Rachel and Quinn walked around their new apartment, hand-in-hand.    
  
“I can’t believe we’re actually here,” Quinn said softly.   
  
Rachel grinned. “It is a little unbelievable,” she agreed. She smiled. “But I’m so glad we finally made it.”   
  
“Yeah,” Quinn agreed.   
  
When her mother died, Rachel felt like her world fell apart. And when she discovered the truth behind her life with her mother, her world actually did. She lost her mother, her home, her sense of self-- even her very identity. She still felt lost much of the time. She’d never found the answers she was looking for about her mother. There was so much she didn’t know and would likely never know. There were things about herself she didn’t like. She was scared  _a lot_  of the time. The life she’d known had been ripped away from her before, and she was in constant terror that it could happen again. She thought about a lifelong friendship she’d nearly destroyed and she was terrified she’d do it again, this time, with Quinn. The thought she could treat Quinn the way she’d treated Claire terrified Rachel. The thought she would hurt Quinn  _again_  horrified her.    
  
But she knew that life was about taking it one day at a time. She would always be the kind of person who had a five year, ten year  _and_  a twenty year plan. She was goal-oriented and she didn’t see a problem with it.    
  
But she’d learned (the hard way) that life didn’t always turn out the way one planned and the metaphorical rug could be pulled beneath her at  _any_  time.   
  
So for now, Rachel tried to appreciate the fact that  _somehow_  not only did she get exactly what she wanted, but that her life was even better than she’d planned it when she was ten.   
  
She was content. She was starting yet another new life. But this time, she wasn’t going into it angry and confused. She wasn’t running toward the past out of fear and grief.    
  
She was starting it the right way. With Quinn.    
  
“Hey,” Quinn said, flicking some water in Rachel’s face, interrupting Rachel’s musings.   
  
Rachel pouted and pulled the water bottle away from Quinn. “Yes?”   
  
“Pay attention to me.”   
  
Rachel laughed softly. “I’m right here,” she said gently, hugging Quinn tightly.   
  
Quinn smiled. “You go away sometimes,” she murmured.   
  
Rachel smiled crookedly and she knew Quinn didn’t just mean her physical presence. “I know,” she said, “but so do you sometimes.”   
  
“I know,” Quinn said softly.    
  
“I know I’ve made you sad sometimes,” Rachel said quietly. “And I can’t guarantee I’ll never make you sad again. But I will always endeavor to temper that tendency by trying my best to make you happy.”   
  
Quinn grinned at her. “This is where you kiss me.”   
  
Rachel grinned back. She was ready to say ‘okay,’ but then she thought about how she’d pledged to herself in the car ride over that she’d tried to prove herself to Quinn through actions rather than with words. She was more comfortable with words than gestures, while Quinn was more comfortable with gestures than with words. She’d come to realize how much Quinn’s actions meant to her, and she’d realize the old adage about actions speaking louder than words was true. So far, Quinn had let her get away with a lot of  _talk_  (and  _oh_  Rachel knew she could talk), but Rachel was starting a new chapter in her life, which meant she was going to start letting her actions communicate how she felt.    
  
So instead of saying anything, Rachel pulled Quinn close and just kissed her girl. And Rachel hoped Quinn could feel everything she wanted to say in that kiss.   
  


 

The End

 

  
  
Ahem. Originally? This story was going to be longer and angstier. But I refrained. Look! I'm growing as a person, lol.

**Author's Note:**

> 1: http://sulkygeekff.livejournal.com/75054.html  
> 2: http://sulkygeekff.livejournal.com/75382.html  
> 3: http://sulkygeekff.livejournal.com/75590.html  
> 4: http://sulkygeekff.livejournal.com/75857.html  
> 5: http://sulkygeekff.livejournal.com/76071.html  
> 6a: http://sulkygeekff.livejournal.com/76528.html  
> 6b: http://sulkygeekff.livejournal.com/76737.html  
> 7: http://sulkygeekff.livejournal.com/76982.html  
> 8: http://sulkygeekff.livejournal.com/77260.html


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